


Tumblin'

by Elivra



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Accidental devilry, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Christmas Presents, Day At The Beach, Demon Summoning, Dorks in Love, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Femslash February, Leather Jackets, Love Confessions, Multi, Necromancy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scary mother hen Levi, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:58:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 38,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elivra/pseuds/Elivra
Summary: Just a place to put all my one-shot SnK fics from tumblr. Genres range from drama to angst to romance. No explicit stuff (sorry), but there's a lot of embarrassing/stammering confessions, f-bombs every five seconds and some actual prose here and there. Will keep updating as I publish more, so keep watching out for new tags if and when they appear!Pairings now mentioned in chapter titles so you can read per your preferences. :)





	1. Home (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: K+  
> Warnings: Injuries, implied violence, strong language  
> Universe: Superhero AU
> 
> Prompt: #34 “You’re bleeding all over my furniture.”
> 
> Summary: Our boy Eren is in big trouble after the bad guys corner and hurt him. In his desperation, he has only one place to go to.

The clock tower chimes midnight, my mind spewing a taunt with each deep clang of the bell that rings in my ears.

_You’ve messed up._

_Badly._

_And you’re fucked._

_Like, big time._

Yeah, thanks, I snarl at the incessant voice in my head.

_Just, like, stating facts here._

I try to ignore the voice, or else there’s no ending this conversation. I’m brought to earth anyway, when a woman lets out this ear-piercing scream, like, five feet from me. That’s when I know how seriously I need help.

Resisting the urge to grin madly at the terrified woman and showing her my bloodied mouth in the process, I hurry further down the street, a destination now decided on.

_No way._

I have to go there.

_She hates you, man._

I don’t have a choice.

The voice surprisingly doesn’t counter this. I really don’t have a choice.

I struggle up the old, steep, marble staircase of her apartment building. She lives on the fifth and topmost floor in an old converted townhouse, the sort of old-ass buildings where elevators are frowned upon. Very typical of her.

When I finally reach her heavy metal front door, I am barely standing up straight, my various injuries screaming agony. The voice in my head is strangely quiet and so, without further ado, I gather the dregs of my remaining energy and knock.

She answers quickly; I wonder briefly what she was doing. The door opens a crack and I see her very familiar eye peering up at me.

“Eren.” She deadpans.

“Hey,” I try to grin without exposing my damaged teeth. “Happy holidays.”

“What do you want?”

“Aw, come on, is this how you treat an old friend?”

“Friends.” She says flatly. “That’s what you think we were.”

The grin is harder to keep up at this point. She is right; we were never just _friends._ We were always something… more.

I really, _really_ don’t want to go into that right now. My knees are just about ready to give up and bring me down crashing onto her doormat.

“Look, I need your help…”

“You don’t say,” she mutters, eyeing my torn and bloodstained costume. “Anything else you _need_ me to do?”

I backtrack. “That came out wrong. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to-”

“I don’t want to,” she clarifies.

“Yeah. Okay, I get that. I respect that. But please, I have nowhere else to go.” My desperation has seeped into my tone and I see her look change. Of course she understands, she always has.

 _She understands nothing_ , the voice whispers suddenly in my head.

Fuck off, I snap back.

Again, surprisingly, the voice quiets down.

“What happened?” She says finally.

I can feel myself swaying. My knees have started to tremble. “Can I come inside?”

She ponders over this for a moment, and then, with a sigh, she slides the door open wide. I can smell her shampoo as I hobble past her; she still uses the mint-strawberry one. The pang in my heart is lost in the very tangible pain from my physical injuries.

“What happened?” She repeats, as I sink into the familiar couch. Man, it’s been months since I sat on this old thing. I think I missed it.

“Just -just gimme a sec,” I mumble and sink deeper into the couch, spreading myself out carefully in what I know is a very comfortable position.

She frowns and sits on the edge of the easy chair. “You’re getting blood all over my furniture.”

“I’ll clean it for you.”

She sighs and looks away. I notice a book open on her e-reader on the coffee table in front of me. I let out a snort of laughter before I can hold it in.

“What?”

“’ _The Devil Wears Prada_ ’? Seriously?”

She shrugs. “It’s entertaining.”

“Wow.”

“What do you want, Eren?” She snaps. I can tell now that she’s at the end of her tether.

I sigh and clench my fists. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I just need a place to heal, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“What happened to your base?”

I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, but then wince: I had forgotten the bruises there. “That’s the thing,” I say, too embarrassed to look at her, “it’s kind of… burnt down.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, I got… careless. They tracked me down. Found the base. I barely managed to escape.”

_Liar._

Shut up.

She leans forward, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. “And?”

“And what?”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Goddammit, she’s good. I start to scratch my neck again as I think of what to say, and again, I wince and drop my hand. This time, unfortunately, she notices.

“What was that?”

“What?” I ask her, playing dumb.

“Eren. Are you hurt… there?”

“It’s nothing.”

She stands up and comes to my side swiftly. I don’t protest when she gently tips my head down and brushes my hair aside with the tips of her cool fingers, plainly exposing the bruises and scabs on the back of my neck. There is a long, breathless moment of silence.

“Explain,” she says quietly.

I don’t want to tell her, I really, really don’t. It’s like, if I don’t say it out loud, then I can deny it ever happened, for a little bit longer.

“It was Annie.” I say finally, and I can’t quite keep the shame out of my voice. “She was with them.”

There is silence again and I wait for her to say something, the inevitable ‘ _I told you so_ ’.

“Your injuries. List them,” she says instead, her voice dangerously calm.

I don’t want to answer her, but I also want to. I know I have to, at any rate. “Twisted left ankle, broken left kneecap. Broken ribs, slightly punctured lung. Three fingernails stripped on right hand, right wrist broken. Dislocated right shoulder. Cuts on neck. Blunt force trauma to skull, inner left ear punctured. Other scrapes and cuts.” In the ensuing pause, I continue, “The ear is already fine. The cuts are healing, I can feel the lung tissue knitting back together. Ankle’s already setting, the cracks in bone are repairing and the fingernails are growing back. Wound on the neck is scabbing.”

There is a pause before she speaks. Her voice is incredibly even. “I should take you to a doctor.”

“Seriously? There’ll be nothing for them to see by the time we get there.”

“Your shoulder needs to be set in place.”

“You can do it for me.”

“I’ll break it.”

“You won’t. I trust you.”

There is silence again, and I can almost hear her say, ‘ _Now_ you trust me’.

“Okay,” she says, and before I can see it coming, she grabs my right arm and yanks, hard. I hiss in pain but I can already feel the shoulder setting back into the socket correctly.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

She simply nods. “I’ll run some water in the bath. Clean yourself up.” She frowns lightly. “You’ll have to make do with Armin’s clothes.”

“I just need to stay until I heal-”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She says flatly and turns away. “You can take the couch.” She pauses. “Unless he has a problem?” She is looking at my forehead and I scowl.

“Rogue has learnt better,” I say simply.

_Have I really?_

Yes, I tell him fiercely. You better fucking have.

I wait for him to respond.

_…Yes._

She shrugs and walks away. I sigh and lean back when I hear her filling the bathtub in the bathroom. When she comes back to the living room, she isn’t looking at me. “Your bath’s ready. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.” She heads towards the metal staircase that leads to her loft bedroom.

“Mikasa,” I call out, and she pauses, her silky dark hair covering her profile so I can’t see her face.

“I’m sorry.” I tell her.

She turns to me then, her features brought starkly into focus by a lamp above her. Her lovely grey eyes are stormy with anger and with pain, just like the last time I saw her. She is as perfect as I remember her, except for the deep scar below her right eye that I gave her. It does nothing to mar her beauty, though.

 _She is acceptable_ , Rogue admits.

Fuck off, I tell him again. And again, he listens.

“Don’t forget to clean the couch in the morning,” she says and turns away again.

“Thanks, Mikasa.”

She was clutching the banister of the staircase, and when she lets go, I see that the metal she was holding is crushed and disfigured. “Good night, Eren,” she says quietly and goes to bed.

Her behaviour is completely fair, after everything I’ve thrown at her. I wish things between us were better, but I fucked them up in the first place. Even this little gesture of care she has shown me is more than I ever expected. More than I deserve, certainly.

But for now, I’m just glad to be back here, in her minimally furnished studio apartment. Despite her cold reception, all I feel is an overwhelming sense of relief. I feel like I’m finally back where I belong. I’m home.

 _Home_ , Rogue agrees in my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The superpowers aren’t the main focus here, but in explanation, Mikasa, of course, has super strength and can jump high and far (think Jessica Jones). Eren has a Hulk-like alter-ego called Rogue. Eren has mental conversations with Rogue and it’s pretty much two people in one body. Eren also has super healing, clearly, and is pretty much indestructible except if hit on the nape of his neck. This is why his neck injuries are such a big deal.
> 
> The implied background here is that Rogue did not like Mikasa and managed to bring a rift between her and Eren. My headcanon is the break happens over Annie, whom Eren defends but whom Mikasa doesn’t trust at all.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Rendez-vous (Armin x Annie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: K+  
> Warnings: None, some swearing in the end.  
> Universe: Modern AU  
> Genre: Angst
> 
> Prompt: #6 “You’re too good for this world.”
> 
> Summary: Armin has a surprise for Annie she really wishes she saw coming.

————————–

“Hey. Sorry I’m late, the trams were really crowded today.”

“No problem,” he says smoothly and closes the door behind me.

“What is this place?” I ask him, giving him my coat when he offers to take it.

“Apparently Christa’s dad is filthy rich. This is one of the many apartments he owns.”

I raise my eyebrow. “I thought Christa was an orphan?”

Armin shrugs delicately. “Her mother is dead.”

“Right. Rich father, you said?”

“Yup.”

Hmm. Interesting. I file this fact away in my mind, in case it ever comes in handy. I walk ahead of him, leaving the small entrance foyer to an impressively large, well-furnished living/dining space. No, it’s not just well-furnished, it’s _expensively_ furnished. Christa Lenz’s father must be extremely rich to be able to just give away a penthouse apartment like this to a daughter he doesn’t acknowledge.

“You like this place?”

“It's… acceptable,” I shrug. I turn around and put my arms on his shoulder. “As long as you’re here,” I whisper and press my lips lightly onto his.

And then my brain goes into overdrive, my muscles locked in danger mode. I realise several things at once.

The click of the front door as he locked it behind me.

The faraway look in his eyes when he followed me into the room.

The stiffness of his lips when he doesn’t kiss me back.

And-

I laugh. Loudly, with an abandonment that is heightened by the growing despair in my chest.

He frowns. “Annie?”

I take a casual step back from him, still laughing, blood pounding in my ears and a scream building in my gut. “It’s just… so ridiculous. I never thought I’d ever say those words in an actual, real-life scenario.”

“What are you talking about?” He is calm, too calm. _Way_ too calm and that is enough to validate what my instincts have told me.

“Well, you _have_ to make me say it, don’t you?”

“Say what?” Still calm. Still dangerous.

I put my hand on my hip and smirk up at him. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, Armin?”

His eyes, his beautiful, _dangerous_ eyes darken. He doesn’t even try to deny it, or to play along. I wish he did, just for another minute, another hour, another night of sweet lies with him.

But that’s Armin. He abhors lying. Another bubble of hysterical laughter threatens to escape my lips.

“Sit down, Annie,” he says quietly.

“Why?”

“I just want to talk.”

“We can talk standing.”

He sighs. “I suppose.”

There is a moment of uneasy silence. My smile slips away as I watch him warily, sadly, my heart still pounding with fear, with adrenaline, with the pain of watching Armin look at me like that.

It is my worst nightmare come to life.

“Since when have you looked at me with those eyes, Armin?” I ask him softly.

Armin asks instead, “Annie… why did you have Marco’s gun?”

 _Ah_. That was it. It was so stupid of me to use it, but I really had no choice. I didn’t think anyone would recognise a standard-issue gun just by looking at it, but I had clearly underestimated my boyfriend.

My _boyfriend_.

“It was… something I found.” I say it because I have to say something.

“Where did you find it?”

“Does it matter?” I cross my arms over my chest. “You seem to have made up your mind.”

“Of course it _matters_ ,” he says, his voice suddenly louder. “Can’t you see what I’m doing? Don’t you see that I _want_ to give you a chance?”

His voice tears at me, ripping my heart to shreds. He cares, he cares, he cares for me almost as much as I do for him. I _made_ him care. I did this to him, I brought this look onto his face, _I_ made his beautiful blue eyes so cold and angry and distraught at the same time.

My trainers would’ve been proud but I’m sick to the stomach.

But I have to do this. I have to do it _now_ , to _him_. My mission is more important than anything else, even him.

“You’re a good person, Armin,” I say quietly. “Too good for this fucked-up world.” I clench my fists, preparing myself. “It’s about time you learned just how fucked-up it is.”

I raise my hands and Armin raises his -and he’s holding the gun. I lunge at him, but instead of pointing it at me, he points at the ceiling, and fires.

I barely manage to grasp a wisp of his soft blond hair before I am yanked back with force, at least four pairs of arms holding me so tightly that I can’t move a muscle. The people seemed to have come from everywhere at once: from behind doors and furniture, from closets and even from the balcony. There are even people standing in the kitchen behind Armin, all their guns trained at me.

“I’ve always known the world’s fucked-up, Annie,” Armin says softly, almost sadly. “Why do you think I do what I do?”

Two more people appear at Armin’s side, their eyes just as focused and betrayed as his, both of them pointing more guns at me. Eren Jaeger’s shocked face is bad enough, but Mikasa Ackerman’s glare is enough to tell me that this is it. The endgame. I played and I lost.

I look at Armin one last time, hoping he sees everything I’m trying to show in that final look. All my sadness and my pride and my _love_ for him. I can’t speak. It’s too late.

But even as I feel my teeth with my tongue, Armin moves so swiftly he appears before me in a blink. And kisses me.

Of all the times we have kissed, Armin has never been this forceful, this _violent_ as he jams his tongue into my mouth. I want to laugh again, laugh out loudly for a long, long time because _he knows_. He knows _everything_. I have definitely underestimated him.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispers between kisses, his eyes wide open like mine. “Don’t you -mmph - _fucking_ dare.”

He finds the pill just as I do. I bite down on it even as he gouges it out with his tongue and wrenches himself away from me to spit it out. Just a tad too late.

White, sparkling spots appear in my vision. The last thing I see is his determined, sad, _desperate_ gaze. I only have time to hope that I didn’t poison him too.

And then I see nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So they’re either spies or assassins in this one. Both seemed to work and I couldn’t really decide on one, so take your pick!
> 
> I’ve left the ending ambiguous on purpose. Is Annie dead? Or is she in a coma? These are questions you must ask Isayama because I want to know too, goddammit.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Winners and Losers (Jean x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by @pickalilywrites
> 
> Rating: K+
> 
> Warnings: None, strong language.
> 
> Universe: Modern AU
> 
> Genre: Fluff (I tried!)
> 
> Prompt: #52. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”
> 
> Summary: Jean, Mikasa and corny pick-up lines at a bar.

————–

It was a pretty cosy bar, not too shabby, not too swanky. The patrons were friendly but not bawdy. The burly bartender made sure of that with his no-nonsense demeanour.

On this Friday evening, sitting at one end of the bar, casually sipping a whiskey sour, was a woman. She caused quite a few stares to be directed her way, with her silky dark hair, her sharp features, and her shapely long legs that extended from a fitted dark dress. Only one man had approached her so far this evening; he had clearly not noticed her bulging biceps or her stone-grey gaze. Unsurprisingly, he was sent back in short order.

This was entertainment enough for the bartender. He topped up her drink at a gesture from her, and as he did so, he couldn’t hide his grin.

“What?” She asked him dryly.

“That guy’s lucky to be alive,” he jerked his head at the would-be suitor, who was currently moping in a corner booth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bob,” she told him, smiling, and tipped her glass at him.

“Cheers,” he nodded and went to serve a customer.

The woman sat alone for some more time, even as the bar began to fill with more people. At one point, the bartender happened to glance her way, and saw a young man with copper hair approach her. His immediate reaction was, “Oh no.”

“What?” Asked the woman waiting for her margaritas.

“Nothing,” he said smoothly and continued mixing the drinks. That young man had no idea what he was walking into. Well, he’d find out soon enough.

The young man in question had his eyes drawn to the woman almost as soon as he entered the bar. Without stopping to think, or even ordering a drink, he sauntered over to her, a confident smirk on his face.

Ladies _loved_ a guy who knew what he was doing, after all.

“Hey, there,” he said, and the woman turned to him. Holy fuck, she was _stunning_.

“Hello.”

He gestured for the bartender, and drawled, “Another of these for me.” He pointed at the whiskey in front of the woman. “Can I buy you one?”

“No, thanks.”

“One whiskey sour, coming right up,” the bartender nodded.

Jean leaned forward, looking at the woman very pointedly. “So,” he began archly.

The woman looked at him again, her face expressionless. “Do I know you?”

Ouch.

Jean restructured his lines immediately. “The name’s Jean Kirschtein. My friends call me Jean, but _you_ ,” he winked at her, “can call me _anytime_.”

He did not think it possible, but her expression became colder. He had to gulp down a large quantity of his drink before he continued.

“Hmm, too tame for you, huh,” Jean said, nodding sagely. “Understandable. So,” he made a grand gesture with his hands for another drink and leaned lazily against the bar counter. “I withdraw my previous statement and I now propose to you- _the stars_.” He widened his eyes and blinked up at her in a manner he _knew_ would make his eyes sparkle. “The forecast today must be wrong because I can still see stars despite the clouds - _in your eyes_.”

The bartender chose this moment to set down his drink and winced. “Yikes, man,” he muttered and Jean managed to spare a split-second glare at the man. The woman, meanwhile, took another casual sip of her drink with no change in her countenance whatsoever.

Still, Jean rallied. “Speaking of your eyes, do you happen to have a map? Because I’m so totally lost in your eyes, like, _damn_.”

And then it happened. Finally, _finally_ , the woman responded. “You must get lost a lot. I can see that from your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

The bartender cackled as he mixed a cocktail. A voice in Jean’s head that sounded disturbingly like Jaeger went, ‘ _Oooh, burn_.’

Jean stared at the woman, at a loss for words. Imaginary Jaeger was right. That had been a devastating burn, indeed. **  
**

She coolly swigged the last of her drink, and leaned towards him. “I win,” she smirked.

Jean blinked rapidly. “What? N -no!”

“No? Then where’s your comeback, lover boy?” She raised her eyebrow tauntingly. “Do you have anything to say?”

Jean searched madly in his head, but came up with zilch. “I -I… aw, fuck.”

Still grinning, she gestured at the bartender for two more drinks. “Since you’re paying,” she told Jean sweetly.

Words finally made themselves accessible to him, and Jean sputtered, “Woah, Mikasa, I agreed to no such thing!”

“Don’t be a spendthrift, darling,” she said smoothly as two more glasses were placed before them. She smiled up at the bartender. “Hey, Bob. Allow me to introduce to you Jean Kirschtein.” A slight widening of her smile. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Bob grunted as he shook Jean’s hand. “What do you do, then?”

“I just passed the bar exam,” Jean said, trying to be casual about it but failing miserably.

To his surprise, the bartender let out a bark of laughter. “Boy, you really need to work on your lines or you’re a piss-poor lawyer.” To Jean’s annoyance Mikasa chuckled next to him. But then she put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Oh, he can handle himself,” making him feel instantly better.

The bartender simply shrugged and withdrew with a smile. Jean turned to Mikasa. “Were they really that bad?”

“Um… cheers?” Clearly still holding back laughter, she nudged his drink that Bob the bartender had just placed before them.

“Wow, thanks,” Jean groaned and guzzled his drink.

“Oh, come on, Jean. It’s alright. To be honest, I expected worse.” She squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“Such high praise,” he said sarcastically, suppressing a burp. How many drinks had he downed already? Three? Four?

“No, but you exceeded my expectations! That’s something, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“Speaking of exceeding expectations, I had one in mind to use on you,” she said, fingering a chain around her neck. “I thought you’d open with a reference, because of, you know, _this_.” She held up the pendant of the chain, a well-known geometric symbol from a popular fantasy series.

“Oh yeah? What was the line?” He asked half-heartedly.

Mikasa made a great show of clearing her throat, then leaned in and whispered, “'What Hogwarts house are you in? Because I’d totally like to _Slytherin_ your bed’.”

They stared at each other in a split second of silence, his eyes narrowed in shock, hers sparkling with anticipation.

Then he grasped her hand. “Mikasa,” he murmured.

“What?” She asked, clearly startled at his serious tone.

“I have to… to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath. He had been agonising over telling her this for weeks. But now, maybe because of the alcohol, or because of that ridiculous bloody statement ( _Slytherin_? The fuck?), Jean suddenly felt like it was the easiest, most important thing to say.

“I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”

He felt her hand freeze in his grasp. Her eyes remained wide. “Why… why does it scare you?”

“Because you’re you. And I’m me. I mean, you're… _you_.” He gestured at her with his free hand. “You’re -you’re _perfect_.”

“Jean-”

“No, but you are.” He placed his hand gently on her cheek. “You’re so fucking perfect it’s _insane_ , Mikasa. Half the time I’m with you, I think, am I dreaming? Because why are you with me? I mean, I’m not bad, like, I’m pretty handsome, right?” He grinned but didn’t really feel like laughing. “I’m good, but yeah, I can be a dick. But _you_ -you’re just -just on a whole other level, with your brains and your -your incredible _kindness_ and the way you can just kick ass-”

“ _Jean_.” She leaned forward and put a finger on his lip, effectively cutting off his speech. “Nobody’s perfect. And for the record… I love you, too.” She blinked rapidly and he saw her cheeks flush pink under his palm.

Good gods, she was _adorable_.

“I love you so much it scared me too. Because I’m not perfect either. I was convinced there are tons of girls prettier, smarter, just better than me at being your girlfriend. But,” she said loudly as he tried to interrupt, and pressed her finger more firmly on his lips. “I have come to realise that it doesn’t really matter. That no one is really perfect, but I think, I really think that we’re perfect together. And that’s enough for me.” She withdrew her finger and leaned back slightly. “Is -is that enough for you?”

His answer was immediate, unthinking.

“Fuck yes.” He breathed and caught her lips in his, heat spreading from his chest and through his very veins when she kissed him back just as fervently.

Several delicious moments later, they broke apart and Jean said, “Okay, but there’s also the tiny thing about your friends that terrifies me.”

A smirk was beginning to quiver at her lips. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, have you met them? Between the homicidal bastard and the twisted little creep I’m pretty much screwed when it comes to dating you.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” she nudged him gently. “And I thought you liked Armin?”

“I did. Until he manipulated me into getting into a bet with my super talented, _super_ amazing girlfriend. He was totally setting me up to fail.”

Mikasa snorted. “I’m sure that’s not true. He has faith in you.”

“Miks, babe, I’m saying he has faith in your ability to leave me speechless. Like…” he raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck was that Slytherin one? It was fucking deplorable.”

Mikasa bit her lip. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Are you kidding me? If you’d used that on me, there would have been no way, no _fucking way_ I’d have known how to respond to that. I would have lost, for sure.”

She was grinning in full force now and took a sip of her drink archly. “I thought I was _super_ talented and _super_ amazing?”

He matched her grin with his and kissed her fondly on her head. “You are. You’re also _super_ bad at pickup lines. Like, really, really bad. It’s amazing how bad you are.”

“Hey!”

He deftly avoided a swat of her hand, knowing from experience that they hurt like a bitch. Instead, he curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“Like I said,” he murmured in her ear, “You’re perfect.”

He felt her arms wrap around him. “I love you, too,” she whispered in his ear.

He shook with laughter, joy blooming like a balloon in his chest. “You were wrong before.”

“Mm?”

He held her tighter. “I win,” he murmured, and kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tags included: #get a room you weirdos


	4. Hot Weather (No pairings)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS (between Chapter 89 and 90)
> 
> Universe: Canon
> 
> Prompt: #64 “Talk to me.”
> 
> Summary: Something’s off with Armin. More so than usual, that is.

————–

“You’re late.”

I shrug, trying to keep my expression nonchalant. “Had to take a shower. Lost track of time.”

“I saved some pudding for you,” she says, ignoring my excuse, and pushes forward a plate of the stuff. I stare at it, my gut twisting uncomfortably. I have always loved the simple dish, but the mere sight of it makes me want to puke now.

“Thanks, Mikasa,” I tell her. “But I’m not hungry. You eat it.” I pause, and glance at her sunken cheeks. “You should eat it.”

“I’m done eating.” She stands up, tray in hand. It’s empty, but I wonder how much food she filled in it to begin with.

I want to argue, but then I see that we’d both be massive hypocrites if we took this any further. She has clearly realised it already.

“Where is Eren?” I ask her, in an effort to change the subject.

“I don’t know.” I see the tray in her hands tremble slightly, and I only see it because I was looking for it. Her voice and her expression remain uniformly serene.

“Okay.” I turn back to the table, focusing on the smoothened whorls of the wooden surface. I am out of things to say now.

She takes a step, pauses, and I feel a sudden firm grasp on my shoulder. “Please eat something,” she says quietly.

I nod without looking at her.

“Good night, Armin.” Her voice is softer, more gentle. I can hear the faint strain of grief, of guilt in her voice, something that has been present in her every word to me since… since Shiganshina.

I nearly retch then and there but hold it in. I wait until I see Mikasa leave the mess hall. Then, abandoning the food, I hurry away as fast as I can.

My feet are automatically taking me to the Library. At this time of the evening, it should be empty, so there would be no one there to lecture or judge me. _Good_. It is also usually a cool, shadowed place, which I crave desperately in this brief spell of hot weather.

However, I find myself proven wrong as soon as I step into the darkened library. I can hear whispers from somewhere in there -where exactly I cannot say, not with the way sound tends to bend and echo amidst the multitude of shelves.

I take a few hesitant steps forward. I am loath to leave because it’s nice and cool here, but I also do not want to talk to anyone. Not just yet.

I almost turn around to leave anyway when I hear it- “…Armin said.” The people must be closer than I thought.

I should turn away, I shouldn’t bother, I should go to bed, or write in the memory journal that Eren and I share. I should spend time with Sasha, who’s bedridden again, or with Mikasa, who would feel better if I talked to her more. I shouldn’t waste time eavesdropping.

But, goddammit, of course I stay. Some things about me will never change, I suppose. I’m not sure if I should be glad about that anymore.

“Well, he’s a smart kid.” The second whisper has enough of a particular tone in it for me to be able to guess who it is.

“True.”

A minute pause. “What? No comeback about my _mistake_? No haranguing?”

My new Commander stops whispering. “I have never _harangued_ you about it.” Her voice is still a low murmur. “ _Never_.”

Captain Levi stops whispering, too. “Yes.”

There is a small pause, where I am terrified my heart is beating so loudly they’ll hear it.

“We have discussed it enough. What is done is done. Armin is a smart boy and a valuable asset. Let’s leave it at that.” There is a pause, as though Commander Hange is waiting for the Captain to say something. When he doesn’t, she continues, “Now, like I was saying, I believe we can give it a shot.”

“What makes you think she’s even alive in there?”

“Honestly? Her body hasn’t decomposed.”

“Tch. Disgusting.”

“I mean, scientifically, a lot of it doesn’t make sense. But she’s a shifter and we’re only learning more _now_ , thanks to Dr. Jeager’s books-”

Her voice cuts off abruptly. I realise too late that I’d made a small noise when she mentioned the word ‘shifter’.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit_.

“Come on up, Arlert,” Captain Levi calls out. How the hell did he know it was me who was eavesdropping?

I know running away now is pointless and, well, stupid. So I follow their voices to the aisle where they wait for me, both leaning against the shelves in a deceptively calm manner. There is a strange tension in the air around them, as if they have been arguing.

“Commander. Captain.” I greet them with a polite but cursory salute. I have come to hate the salute with every fibre of my being.

“How much did you hear?” Captain Levi asks me in greeting.

“Something about a decomposing body…” I lie.

They both scrutinize me so intently I wonder if they bought it. Then the Commander says, “Then you’ve come at the right time. I want you to explain to Captain Levi what you told me regarding Annie Leonhardt’s current state.”

If I’m surprised, it’s only because the Commander hasn’t chosen to explain it herself. Nevertheless, like the good soldier I have trained to be, I obey, and begin to reiterate my theory. “We don’t know exactly how Annie’s staying alive in there. If there was any air in that crystal, it should be long gone by now. Like the Commander said, the fact that she is a shifter may have given her more Titan-like abilities than just physical regeneration.”

“You’re telling me Titans don’t even need air to survive?”

I shrug. “Going by the size and approximate number of the Titans in the Walls, I should say, no. They don’t.”

“Tch,” he says again, glaring darkly at a random book. “They don’t seem to follow any natural laws we know of.”

“No. And yet, they exist,” I shrug again.

The Commander lets out a snort. For a moment, she looks like the old Squad Leader Hange Zoë that had left most people mildly terrified. “Now you see why I was so obsessed with finding out answers.”

“And yet we seem to have more questions than anything else,” Captain Levi notes.

“We’ve had answers as well. More than I’d hoped for.” She turns to me abruptly. “Anything new?”

I shake my head, my hands automatically curling into tight fists. “Nothing important.”

The Commander sighs. “Anything and everything you remember is important, Armin.”

“I know. I mean, I understand, ma'am,” I say hurriedly. “Just, nothing relevant to this.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “You are writing everything down, right?”

“Of course. I’ll have this week’s notes sent to you tomorrow.”

She nods and checks the time in a pocket watch. “It’s late. You should go to bed.”

“Actually, I’d like to read for a bit.” I say hurriedly. The Captain raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Commander Hange is gazing intently at me. “Armin,” she says quietly, and her voice is so soft I almost don’t recognise it. “If you’re having any problems you should speak up.”

“I’m fine.” And then, because my answer came out too quickly, I repeat more calmly, “I’m fine, Commander. Thank you for your concern.”

She blinks. “Well. My door is always open, should you want someone to talk to.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

This time, she nods and turns away abruptly. “Good night, both of you.” She leaves before I can even nod back, and that is when I realise Captain Levi is still looking at me.

“Uh, Captain?”

“What she said.” He mutters, his gaze locked onto mine. “You want to talk, I can talk. Whenever. Got that?”

I nod, at a total loss for words.

He nods, too, and leaves.

 _Incredible_. Despite everything that has happened, despite everything that is going to happen, these people, these flawed, biased, hurting and grieving people are still so _kind_.

Rapidly wiping my cheeks, I make my way to one of the reading tables, pull open a book about catapult technology and begin to read.

I don’t know how long I have been reading when I hear him.

 _Armin_ …

I slam my book shut with a bang, making someone at the end of the aisle go, “Woah, hey!”

I squint through the darkness, the voice already confirming who it is for me.

“Eren?”

“Hey,” he says again and steps into the light. It has barely been a day since I’ve seen him and yet he looks so changed, it’s frightening.

I wonder if I look any different.

“What’re you reading?” He asks as he pulls up a chair.

I tell him. He asks me what I’ve learnt so far and I discuss the book with him for several minutes. My racing heartbeat calms down, and I am grateful for perhaps the thousandth time that I have a friend as supportive and as comforting as Eren Jaeger.

“So the Bertrand model is as far as I’ve gotten in the book,” I finish my narration.

Eren stretches. “It’s far enough, I think. It seems a good place to stop for now, huh? Time to go to bed, Armin.”

I break eye contact with him. “N -no. I think I’ll read some more.” I try to smile. “I’m not sleepy yet.”

Eren stares at me for one long moment. “Armin, you were dozing off when I first saw you here.”

I shake my head, but I believe him.

He leans forward and places his hand on mine. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say immediately, then correct myself. “No more than usual.”

“No. Something's off. Mikasa's worried, too.”

I withdraw my hand. “Nothing's  _ off _ , Eren.”

“Mikasa told me you showered four times today?”

“And that’s a cause for concern?” I snap, although I can’t help but marvel at Mikasa’s intuition.

“You tell me,” Eren says.

I sigh roughly. “I just… it’s too hot these days.”

“We’ve had hotter summers.”

“Yeah, but that was before-” I stop abruptly. I didn’t want to tell him, I _so_ didn’t want him to know…

“Before…?” Eren repeats.

I can’t quite bring myself to say it. “Never mind,” I say quietly.

Eren holds my hand again. “It’s an uncomfortable feeling, I know. But it’ll pass.”

I stare at him. “What-?”

“The heat,” he explains. “It's… probably worse for you.” His hand grips mine tighter. “But heat and steam will do nothing to you Armin. Not anymore.”

There is a substantial lump in my throat as I speak. “I -I know.” I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Eren.”

“It’ll get easier. Trust me.”

“Okay.” I smile at him, and despite my inner cynic, it feels genuine. Eren smiles back, a rarity these days.

“Come on.” He pulls me to my feet, and I feel a sudden urge to laugh. Some things do stay the same, I think, as I follow him back to the quarters. Eren is still far stronger than I am.

He leaves me at my room with another reassuring smile and I can almost feel his comforting presence leech away from the air as he walks away. I am starting to sweat again, and yet I feel a strange chill in my bones.

Resisting the urge to rush to the showers again, I change and crawl into bed. I can feel the anticipation drumming through my chest, burning through my veins. It is time.

I close my eyes and immediately, his fleshless face blooms into view in the darkness behind my eyelids.

_Hello, Armin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tags included: #i cant write a short fic to save my life


	5. Fabulous (Jean x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [anonymous asked:
> 
> Jeankasa... Mikasa asking him out or trying]
> 
>  
> 
> This is an AMAZING ask, thank you so much, anon!!! This one was pretty quick, hope you like it!
> 
> Warning: Strong language ahead.

—————

“Oh my _god_. Dude.” Jean reached over and grabbed his friend’s arm so tightly Marco actually winced.

“What is it, Jean?”

“ _She’s_ here. Fuck. Holy fuck-shit. What the hell am I going to do?” Jean whispered frantically.

“‘She’?” Marco raised an eyebrow and followed Jean’s gaze until he saw the black-haired girl leaning against a wall, clearly bored.

“Well you don’t have to do anything,” Marco said soothingly. “Unless you want to talk to her?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jean hissed. “After I made such a fool of myself? Fuck, man, I like her and all, but I also like _breathing_.”

Marco laughed. “Oh come on, Jean. It wasn’t that bad.”

Jean swigged the rest of his drink, his eyes watering from the sheer potency of it. “Not that bad,” he repeated shakily. “Sure. Fucking embarrassed her in front of the whole school. Jaeger’s given me bloody death threats. Not so bad, huh.” He looked into his empty plastic cup morosely. “Whatever this shit is, I need more of it.”

Marco put a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Come on. Punch is in the kitchen.”

Jean let himself be steered into Krista Lenz’s well-stocked kitchen, managing to avoid the really rowdy party goers. The blaring music was starting to give him a headache, despite the fact that it was much more muted inside the house. Marco went to get refills and to amuse himself, Jean watched several high school kids divebomb into the pool outside. He wished he could join those dudes. They looked like they were having fun, and if it hadn’t been for his recent public humiliation, he would’ve been out there, tipping a screaming Sasha into the pool.

“Hey,” said a loud shrill voice behind him, and he turned to see a girl with pale wavy hair blinking up at him.

“Hey,” he said cautiously. He had seen this girl around at school, but didn’t know her name.

“I’m Hitch,” she slurred, swaying slightly. “Aren’t you the guy that confessed your love to Ackerman on the P.A. system?”

Jean winced. “It was an accident,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know the mic was on. And I didn’t _confess_ to her.”

“Totally sounded like it,” she grinned, placing her hand on her hip.

“Look I just said that she was… beautiful, okay?” He huffed. Why was he trying to explain himself to this random chick anyway?

“You forget I heard it myself,” Hitch’s grin grew. “Didn’t you say that she has a great ass?”

“I think the word he used was ‘fabulous’.”

Jean jumped so violently he stepped on Hitch’s foot, making her squeak. He didn’t have to turn around to see who it was; he’d know that voice anywhere.

 _Fuck_.

Hitch’s eyes widened, and she seemed too stunned to speak. Jean screamed a silent prayer in his mind, and turned around.

“U-um, hey, Mikasa! H-hi!”

“Hello.” Weirdly enough, Mikasa’s beautiful grey eyes were fixed on Hitch. The look on her face, even when not directed at him, made his knees go weak and his heart race, in equal parts smitten and scared.

What the hell was this girl?

“Are you done?” She asked Hitch quietly.

Hitch simply shrugged and backed away, muttering something about “fricking Annie 2.0…”.

That left him alone with her. With _Mikasa freaking Ackerman_. Goosebumps rose on his flesh and yet he felt himself sweating nervously.

“Was she bothering you?” Mikasa asked him, and that question was so ludicrous coming from her that Jean had a mad urge to laugh.

It came out as a high-pitched giggle. “Ha! No… uh, n-no, not really.”

“Good.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know how Leonhardt bears her company.”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste, sometimes,” Jean said easily.

“True.” Wait, was she _smiling_? What the fuck? Although… if she truly was in a good mood, then Jean had to take this chance to apologize to her. He _had_ to.

“Hey, listen,” he mumbled and Mikasa’s eyes met his again. “I -er, I just wanted to say I'm… sorry. For the other day. Like, that was a dick move on my part and I didn’t mean for you to get -well. You know. So, yeah, I’m really, really sorry.”

 _Great, Jean_. He snarled mentally at himself. _How eloquent._

Mikasa looked at him for a long moment that felt like eternity to Jean. “You didn’t do it on purpose,” she said finally. “It’s fine.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. He felt relief ballooning in his chest, until her next words deflated him completely.

“It’s just… the whole school’s been talking about it.”

He wanted to sink into the earth and stay there. “Right.” He scratched the back of his head sadly. “Shit. If only there was something I could do…”

She looked at him speculatively. “Well…”

“You… you have something in mind? Jean’s brain was in overdrive. Did she mean to make an example of him by tearing him into pieces? Did she have something far more embarrassing for him to do?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Do you like old horror movies?”

 _Huh?_ “Huh?” He asked her.

Her gaze flickered away -and was she _blushing_? “There’s a repeat screening of Bride of Frankenstein at the 7th avenue place.”

Jean blinked, suddenly feeling very obtuse. “… Right.”

There was a split second of silence. Then Mikasa looked up at him, cheeks flushed, grey eyes glimmering. “Would you like to go watch it sometime?”

 _Hooooly fuck_.

Jean felt like his brain was broken. “Uh,” he intoned.

She took a deep breath. “It’s just -these rumours are gonna run wild anyway, after the… incident. Might as well go out together and shut their gossiping little mouths.” She glanced at him and bit her lower lip. “I mean, it’s not just that. I -I want to go on a -date, with… you…” Her voice trailed away. “Jean?”

He blinked rapidly, realised his mouth hung open, and closed it with a loud clack of his teeth. “Um. Ah. Date.” He managed to say.

The corners of her mouth twitched again. “Is that a yes?”

Still at a loss for words, he nodded.

“Thursday sound good?”

Another nod.

“Good. Until Thursday, then.” She was positively smiling now and holy shit she was stunning?? How? Was she even real? Like, _how?_

“See you around, Jean,” she said, leaning forward, kissed him gently on the cheek, and vanished into the crowd.

His one coherent thought as he watched her retreating back was that she did indeed have a _fabulous_ ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-tumblr notes: Is Mikasa perfect? No. Do *I* think she is? Abso-fucking-lutely. You'll see a lot more of my admiration for her up ahead, totes not sorry. :)


	6. Breathless (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ jungianca6 asked:
> 
> Hi! Is it ok for you to write Eren and Mikasa finding each other after they thought they were dead? Canonverse or Modern AU, whatever suits you better :) ]]
> 
>  
> 
> Hey there, thanks so much for the ask! I’ve been focusing on other pairings lately and you’ve dragged me back to Eremika and I’m just so happy, so thanks!
> 
> So here you go. This could be modern or canonverse, tbh, I’m being vague on purpose. :) Also a little graphic and plenty of angst, yaaaay!

Eren has seen hell. He thought he already had, all those years ago, but he knew nothing, then. _This_ is hell. This never-ending field of corpses, the screams and wails of his comrades and enemies pounding in his ears, the stench of the blood and the muck and the gore clogging his nostrils. The pain burning through him, the parts of him missing, both physical and not. The memory of seeing _her_ being swept away, inexorably and irrevocably by the force of the battle, her eyes fixed on _him_ and only him, as they always had been.

With her gone, Eren feels like there is no air left for him to breathe.

*

Mikasa has seen hell. She had heard enough screams, seen enough blood to last her a lifetime. But _this_ , this _madness_. Whatever she had been told, whatever she had trained for, she had not expected this. The heat of the battle fading away into a disgusting tableau of mangled, bloodied, dirtied corpses. The stench of death. The sounds of despair. The pain of loss. Her own heart is pounding, her mind is screeching ten, hundred times louder than the wails around her. All she wanted was to stay by _his_ side.

And now, she cannot sense his irreplaceable presence at all and the loss leaves her breathless.

*

They stumble, hobble, crawl aimlessly, desperately. More and more friends are turning up dead, more and more memories of good cheer and laughter are being tarnished by the bloody battlefield. Hearts thudding, tears pouring, lungs screaming for air, they whisper and shout their names in despair. Hope is a luxury neither of them can afford.

*

And then he sees her.

A flash of red, deeper and brighter than all the blood congealing around him. A red he has been familiar with for years now -something that was never meant to be his, it was always hers, always connecting her to him, always calling out to him.

He is running, or hobbling, or crawling, he doesn’t care what. Parts of him are missing and suddenly, parts of him are knitting back together.

*

And then she hears him.

A hoarse voice, a scream or a whisper, she cannot tell. War has warped her very senses, but she knows that voice. It is the voice that drives her, that hardens her resolve, that pushes her to live. The voice that taught her to fight and she never forgot.

She is famous for her strength and she is never more thankful for it as she pushes herself upright, towards him, the burning pain meaningless.

*

They are on their knees, eyes locked on the other, hands held together. And when they hold each other despite the missing parts and the burning pain and the wails of despair, when they feel the strong rhythm of their beating hearts, a burst of fresh air surrounds them, blocks out the stench of death around them.

And finally, _finally_ , they can breathe again.


	7. Tequila Christmas (Levi x Hange)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Levihan Secret Santa gift for @raisedinthunder ! So sorry for the late update Hope you have a very Merry Christmas!!
> 
> Warning: Some swearing here and there.

They lived together in a small apartment that suited them just right. True, it was cramped, and old, and had serious dry mold and crumbling wallpaper when they first saw it. True, they had first moved in together due to necessity more than anything else. But they had come a long way since then. The dry mold and dusty wallpaper disappeared within the first month. Their awkwardness at sharing living space disappeared within the first two months. And before they knew it, “the apartment” became “home” and they went from “coworkers” to “friends” to something much more.

Winters were particularly difficult because of the dodgy heating, and so on this particular night, they were huddled together on the couch under the massive, warm rug they tended to share as a daily ritual.

“How was work?” She asked him first, dumping in marshmallows into her hot chocolate.

“Jesus, do you _want_ to put yourself in a sugar coma?”

She smirked. “When this much sugar is on hand, _fuck yes_.”

“Tch. Tolerance is a virtue, Hange.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be patience?” She took a sip, then hissed loudly when the scalding liquid met her mouth.

“Well, clearly you have neither, Shitty-glasses. Just let it cool down, already.”

She sighed theatrically. “How long have you known me, Levi?”

“Far too long.”

“Then _this_ shouldn’t surprise you.” Holding her gaze locked onto his, she dumped more marshmallows into her mug and took a large swig of the concoction.

He rolled his eyes. “I give up. You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in _looove_ ,” she cooed and hooked her arm around him.

He leaned away, wrinkling his nose. “I stand corrected. You’re hopelessly drunk.”

“Well, in my defense,” Hange declared, “I blame today.”

Levi frowned, and took a sip of his tea. “Why, what’s today?”

“Shut. Up. You filthy fuckin’ liar.” Hange wagged an accusing finger at him. “You know perfectly well what day it is today.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh.” He looked supremely unhappy. “It’s Christmas.”

“Christmas _Eve_ ,” she corrected him. “The team wanted to go out for drinks-”

“You mean Moblit wanted to go out for drinks,” he deadpanned.

“And so, being the beautifully brilliant boss that I am,” Hange continued blithely, “I went with _the team_. It’s _traditional_.”

She reached for the bag of marshmallows and Levi swept it out of her reach. Ignoring her outraged hiss, he muttered, “Bullshit. We’re not even religious, Hange.”

“Wow, fuck you too,” Hange snapped. “Your atheist mathematical ass may not get the joy and the gaiety of the season but I do.”

“Yes, nothing says ‘joy to the world’ like getting piss-drunk on tequila shots.”

“You know what, screw this. I’m going to bed.”

And that was when Levi realised how insensitive he’d been. Moments like these were infrequent, but, with Levi’s natural crankiness, inevitable. “Fine, sit down. Look, be as joyous and festive as you like.” He grabbed her wrist. “Hange. _Hange_.”

“ _What_.” She snapped, struggling to extricate herself from the rug and pull her hand from his grasp at the same time, and failing miserably at both.

“I’m sorry.” His quiet voice seemed to calm her and she stared at him for a long moment.

She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the faded chirp of their second-hand cuckoo clock. Outside, the bells in the University campus began to toll.

“Midnight,” Hange whispered. Then she yanked her hand away so suddenly Levi was forced to let go of her. Before another word was uttered, she stumbled away into their bedroom.

“Hange-? Hey, look, I said I’m sorry-” Levi had stood up to follow her when he stopped abruptly. She had flitted back into the room and was holding a large, haphazardly-wrapped package.

Her voice was even, her face expressionless. “I know you don’t care for this festival so…” She stepped closer and handed him the large box. “Happy Birthday.”

He looked from the gift to her, and back at the gift again for a long moment. Then, he turned on his heel and marched into the bedroom.

Hange slumped visibly, her cheeks reddening, angry and embarrassed. “Right. Of course, I shouldn’t have expected any better-”

And then he was back, holding a-

“What the _fuck_?” Hange gasped.

“You’re right. I don’t care for the festival.” Levi spoke as quietly as always, as though it was just normal for him to be standing there, holding a large box wrapped neatly in candy-cane patterned gift wrap. “But I know you do.” He offered her the box. “Merry Christmas, Four-eyes.”

They stared at each other for a long moment in silence. This was new territory for both of them. Somehow, over the years, they had never had a Christmas together, the universe managing to keep them apart through some way or the other (work, a sick relative, a sudden revolution… you know, regular stuff). Now both of them were left equally surprised and unsure.

Hange being Hange, took the first step forward. Mutely, she reached out for the gift in his hands while simultaneously offering him hers. They moved slowly, awkwardly, as they accepted their gifts. This was very, _very_ new for both of them.

“Well.” Hange said. “Shall we?”

Levi simply nodded, his pale cheeks flushed pink.

They sank onto the couch. For a split second they simply sat, staring at the boxes on their laps. Then Hange attacked hers, and Levi began to unwrap his, an ill-concealed smile on his face.

Unsurprisingly, Hange managed to unwrap her gift first. Levi paused his unwrapping and watched her. “Go on,” he muttered, fidgeting slightly. He was clearly still not at ease.

She ripped away the tape sealing the box and finally opened it. And sat and stared at its contents, stunned.

“Levi…” She whispered hoarsely.

He flicked imaginary dust away from his sweater. “Don’t you like it?”

“Like it?” Hange laughed shakily. “It’s a spectrometer. A spectrophotometer. A _microspectrophotometer_.”

“That’s what you wanted right?” He asked her, not quite able to hide his concern. “For your weaponry artifacts?”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, clearly at a loss for words. Levi continued to stare at her anxiously.

“Open your gift,” she said finally.

“Hange-”

“Just open it, Levi.”

He’d fucked up. _Fuck_ , he’d fucked up. He didn’t even know how or why, but he knew he had. If Hange’s immediate reaction wasn’t effervescent joy, then he’d definitely done something wrong. He had a sudden urge to pack his bags and leave, rather than unpack the gift he certainly did not think he deserved.

But she was waiting, so he complied, carefully unsticking the various tabs of tape that held the wrapping paper in place. When he opened the expensive-looking box that looked like it came from a fancy couturier’s, he sat back, stunned in his turn.

“What -what is this.”

Hange burst into speech. “It’s the scabbard. _Your_ scabbard. The one to go with your heirloom sword, you know, the one so sharp a thousand years later that it can still split a hair in half. The sword whose scabbard was lost in time, the one you’re going to give to your cousin when she’s ready. I mean, look, it’s got the Ackerman coat of arms. Now you can give her the full set.”

Levi turned to her, his expression still shocked.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Hange continued, letting out a shaky laugh. “It’s expensive. But I happened to find it and I couldn’t let it go, not when I found _your_ heirloom, Levi. So I -heh, I kind of…” She had a strange smile on her face, “I sold it. My collection, my artifacts, I sold them all, got a really good price for them, and I got you this. So, um, yeah. I know you got me the spectrometer for them, but it’s okay, I love it and and can totally use it for other things. It’s fine.”

Levi stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he croaked, “Hange.”

“It wasn’t a loss, don’t worry, I got a good price for them, honestly, I should've done it sooner, the money could’ve come in use-”

“ _Hange_.” He interrupted her loudly. She stopped her nervous babbling. “Hange, that spectrometer, fuck… I sold my sword.”

“ _You what_?”

“I found a private collector and I sold the sword. There’s nowhere I’d use it anyway. And you’ve been raving about the spectrometer for ages, so-”

He stopped abruptly. They both stared at each other again, equally shocked -again. Then, in sync, they smiled at each other.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re a _colossal_ idiot.”

“You sold your thousand-year-old sword!”

“You sold the artifacts you’ve been collecting since you were eight fucking years old!”

They stopped, and their grins widened. Thrusting away their now-useless gifts, they slumped into each other’s arms, familiar and comfortable once more.

“We’re _both_ idiots,” Hange declared, burrowing into his embrace, as usual. “Of the Colossal variety.”

“Agreed,” Levi murmured, his hands stroking her stringy hair, as usual. “It’s like you said, Shitty-glasses. We’re hopelessly in love.”

She smirked, leaning into his hand in her hair. “Look at you being romantic and all. Who'd’ve thought your granite-face exterior has such a gooey-”

“You can’t be poetic for _shit_ , so shut up, will you.”

“All gooey and mushy and sparkly- mmph!”

He cut her off with a warm, deep kiss that banished every last vestige of awkwardness. How could they be awkward or uncertain, when being together always felt _right_ , like being _home_?

When he pulled away, she murmured, “Now what do we do about the stuff?” They peered over the other’s shoulder at the gifts.

“Well,” he whispered against her cheek. “We could sell them, too.”

Hange gasped excitedly. “Then we’ll have _money_ to _spend_!”

“Yup. And I know exactly where to spend it.”

She looked at him quizzically.

He grinned. “On a Christmas tradition, of course. Getting piss-drunk on tequila shots.”

“ _There’s_ the grump I fell in love with!”

And so, for every Christmas after that in the Zoë-Ackerman household, there was always, _always_ tequila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: My first Levihan fic ever, hope they’re not too OOC!
> 
> Gift of the Magi is my fave X-mas story and I was so pumped to use its theme for these guys because, come on, it’s perfect for them!
> 
> Also, I really, really wanted to include this but I couldn’t find a way to do so - Hange is a Forensic Archaeologist, which is such a cool and disturbing but mostly cool career field, so it was perfect for Hange! She and Levi teach at a University, and Levi’s subject is… math. He does intense MMA, she’s a crazy acrobat, they bond over capoeira. Nothing less for this badass pairing.
> 
> Hope you liked it and Happy Holidays to you!


	8. Resolution (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Eren x Mikasa
> 
> Genre: Fluff
> 
> Prompt: New Year’s Resolutions (it’s that time of the year, after all!)
> 
> Summary: Eren gets drunk and messes up. His New Year’s resolution hangs in the balance.
> 
> Warnings: Some swearing ahead, of course.

* * *

In hindsight, Eren realises that he should’ve listened to his friends. It’s annoying how often they are right, but goddammit, do they have to be right _all the time_?

By 11 pm he is already comfortably buzzed, the evening taking on a warm glow, and he is filled with a burst of camaraderie.

A hand latches on to his wrist. “Eren,” Mikasa says tiredly. “Where are you going?”

“I just want to talk to him.” He doesn’t notice that he is practically whining.

“What do you want to tell him?”

“Come _on_ , it’ll be _fine_. He’s been doing well in training these days and I just want to congratulate him.”

Mikasa and Armin exchange glances.

“No,” Armin says decisively and drags him to another section of the party. “And maybe tone down the drinking.”

Of course, Eren, being the piece of shit he is, manages to evade his friends’ clutches. Before they could even start finding him in the mass of people, he and Jean are at it again, their angry screeches and loud punches punctuating the thumping music.

Some people he doesn’t know drag him away from the horse-faced bastard, and he follows a giggling Connie sullenly to the drinks. There he manages to drown his annoyance in some more alcohol, his awareness becoming more and more hazy, until suddenly, he is in the middle of a crowd screaming in unison.

“ _Five! Four!_ ”

He glances around himself, thoroughly disoriented because he is surrounded by strangers and has no fucking idea how he got here.

“ _Three! Two!_ ”

A blond girl next to him catches his roving eye and smirks.

“ _One! Happy New Year!_ ”

Pandemonium. People are screaming themselves hoarse, drinks are flying from their plastic cups, and suddenly, he is kissing the blond girl. The feeling is far from unpleasant, yet feels oddly _wrong_. He understands why when he leans back for air, looks up, and catches sight of a frozen grey gaze on him.

 _Fuck_.

She turns away and disappears into the crowd behind her, and Eren tries to follow, but suddenly finds himself being held back.

The girl still has her arm hooked around his waist. “Leaving already?” She asks him, biting her lip in an admittedly seductive manner.

Eren takes a deep breath and gently unwraps her arm from around him. Holding her hand, he says fervently, “Look. You’re very hot, okay. Like, _insanely_ hot. So seriously, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to find someone else.” He blinks. “Okay bye.”

She still grips his hand as he is leaving. She looks a little miffed. “And why should I find someone else? Why not you?”

He shrugs. “I’m in love with someone hotter.”

Her mouth opens in a silent, angry gasp. Eren shrugs again, rips his hand from hers, and rushes away.

He searches for what seems like hours, rapidly sobering down as more and more people turn out to be not her. He wonders if she has left the party and decides that he’ll go to her room and break her door down if he has to. He _must_ talk to her. He _has_ to explain.

A large digital display tells him it’s only one thirty in the morning and he is just about ready to leave himself, when he catches sight of a familiar blond head. Almost exclaiming out loud with relief, he hurries forward.

“Armin!”

“Eren? Holy shit, where have you _been_? Mikasa and I have been looking for so long-”

“Where is she?” He interrupts him.

“Huh?”

“Where’s Mikasa, Armin?”

Armin shrugs, and Eren realises his best friend is not sober either. “Um,” Armin says, trying to focus his glazed eyes. “She was right next to me…”

Eren slumps on a chair next to him. “Fuck. Oh god Armin, I’ve fucked up.”

Armin frowns. “I heard about your fight with Jean.”

 _Huh_? “What? No. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Armin’s eyes narrow. “What did you do, Eren?”

Eren runs an agitated hand through his hair. “I -fuck, Armin, I was drunk, okay, like really blown outta my mind. And I had no idea -I wasn't… it meant nothing…”

Armin’s voice is more dangerous. “ _What did you do, Eren?_ ”

“You guys!” Sasha’s screech makes them both wince. “Come on, we’re all gathering at the pool.”

Eren doesn’t want to go anywhere and Armin asks for him, “Who is?”

“The 104th, who else? Come _on_ , ohmigod just _come_.”

Eren’s ears perk up.”Wait, everyone?”

Sasha has hooked her arm around each of the boys’ elbows. “Yes, yes, _everyone_.”

Eren nudges Armin and they let themselves be steered outside, where about a dozen people wait next to the pool. He quickly runs his eyes over them… but she isn’t there.

 _Fuck_.

Jean pointedly moves to the other side of the crowd, nursing a drink next to his jaw. Eren pointedly ignores him.

“What up y'all, first New Years together!!” Connie hollers excitedly, passing around drinks to everyone.

“We’ve known each other three years, ya bald fuck,” Ymir drawls, snuggling more cozily into Historia’s hug.

Connie flips her off casually. “I _meant_ , this is the first time we’re all celebrating New Year’s Eve together, okay?”

“And hopefully our last!” Ymir cackles. “I for one will be glad to see the back of your head,” she gestures wildly at Reiner.

Reiner glares at her and Jean adds, “Yeah, glad we’ll be seeing the last of _some_ people.” Eren puts his drink down and flips him off with both his hands.

Historia pushes Ymir away, clearly upset. “Guys, come on,” her childish voice somehow carries over the babble. “Tonight is supposed to be fun.”

Sasha joins in. “Yeah, come on, you guys. We’re a _team_.”

Marco, ever the peacemaker, says brightly, “A toast! All of us together!”

No one disagrees. Ymir already looks horrified at making Historia sad, and Jean is, as usual, instantly mollified by Marco’s voice. Eren, however, wants to protest. Everyone is _not_ together, someone is clearly missing and he is seriously pissed that they haven’t even noticed, when Armin gasps, “ _There_ she is!”

Eren follows his gaze and he sees her, standing quietly between Bertholdt and Annie with a drink of her own. She looks as stoic as ever, but does not look at him, not once. That in itself is bad enough and makes his insides turn cold.

So he doesn’t shout and cheer with the others as they close in to clink glasses and bottles and cans together. He tries to reach her glass, but she moves away, toasting her drink with Sasha instead, even braving a hug from the girl. Clearly, she is avoiding him.

“Okay, okay,” Reiner exclaims as they all swig their drinks. “Resolutions for this year.” He points at Sasha. “Go.”

“Ooh, I want to try and get into that pastry cooking course. It’s sooo prestigious,” Sasha sighs dreamily. “If I get that diploma I could be sous-chef in a four-star by the end of the year!”

Several people wish her luck and she hugs them all. Then it’s Connie’s turn and Eren barely listens to his resolution. His eyes are on her once more, and she is still looking steadily elsewhere. He is itching to go up to her and talk, but he knows everyone would make a fuss. And eavesdrop, which is honestly worse.

Ymir says something about ‘managing to just graduate, fuck’, when she slips off the chair she was sitting on and walks away. Only Annie and Bertholdt notice, but they both say nothing. Eren looks around, sees everyone laughing and teasing Ymir, and tries to leave as adroitly as he can muster. Before he leaves though, he whispers in Armin’s ear, “Cover for me.”

Armin directs an inquiring glance at him, but seems to understand when he sees Mikasa in the distance. He nods, and Eren turns away, all focus directed on the girl in the distance. Her usual red scarf is easy to keep track of, and before long, he catches up to her.

“Hey.”

She doesn’t stop.

“Hey, Mikasa!”

She stops and he comes to stand next to her. Words fail him suddenly as he looks at her calm expression, her grey eyes still refusing to meet his.

“What is it, Eren?”

He runs a hand through his hair, still struggling for words. “You’re, um, leaving already?”

“I’m tired,” she says simply.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or -or Armin? We’ll walk you home.”

She shrugs delicately. “You looked like you were having fun.”

 _Ouch_. “Well, it’s not. Not without you around.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t you… don’t you want to tell us your resolution?” He asks her desperately.

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh. O-okay.” He still searching wildly for something to say. Goddammit, why is it so hard to talk to her all of a sudden?

“Do you -d’you wanna know mine?”

Mikasa looks at him, finally, _finally_ looks at him. “What is it?”

And he is suddenly lost in her eyes. They are so deep and clear, and she is just _so_ beautiful. He has known for months how deeply she affects him and now all he can do is stare at her. She is _perfect_.

Her eyebrows slant slightly. “Eren?”

“Huh?”

“Your resolution. Do you want to tell me or not.”

He blinks rapidly. His every thought process is smothered by her presence, and if he was having trouble speaking before, it is nothing compared to now. He is absolutely, completely struck dumb.

Her frown deepens. “Eren-”

He gives up on trying to say anything, and instead, does the one thing he has been meaning to do for a long time: he kisses her, straight on her mouth, cutting off her words. He is almost melting at the feel of her soft lips on his, but he doesn’t linger. A firm, fervent press of his mouth on hers and then he breaks away.

“That.” He wheezes. “That was my resolution. To tell you how I feel, and I didn’t really know what to say, and, um, sorry I forced myself on you. I didn’t mean to -I mean, I meant it, like _fuck_ , Mikasa, I’ve wanted to do it for so long, but I-”

His rambling is cut short when she places a finger on his lips. Her cheeks are flushed but her expression is frighteningly the same.

“What about that girl?” She asks him quietly.

“I -I don’t even know who she was and it was midnight and I was drunk and I know it’s not an excuse and I’m sorry, but I really wanted that moment with you instead, honest. I really, _really_ did, but I fucking fucked up, like I always do-”

This time she cuts him off before he is even aware of it. Her face is suddenly so close he can count her eyelashes, and then, holy fuck, _she_ is kissing _him_.

And this time, he does melt, right into her strong arms, even as she does into his tight embrace. This time, they kiss slowly and deeply, lips moulding against the other, tongues twisting together, the whole world around blurring into nothingness.

When she pulls away, she stays close to him, her forehead pressed on his. “It’s still midnight _somewhere_ , right?” She asks him softly and he opens his eyes to look at her. Her cheeks are properly red now, her lips all wet and bruised, her eyes glimmering with humour. Fuck, she is _stunning_.

“Mm-hmm,” he manages to agree. He realises that he will have to start getting used to being stunned speechless by her. The thought makes him giddily exhilarated.

“Well, then.” She grins and her dimples pretty much take his breath away. “Happy New Year,” she whispers and kisses him again.


	9. Here Comes the Sun (Ymir x Krista)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Swearing as usual lol
> 
> Spoilers: Some names, characters and implied plot points from manga. Anime-only peeps beware.
> 
> Universe: Modern/Office AU
> 
> Summary: Ymir has always hated the sun. Until this particular office party.

“Oh, _there_ you are. So how do you find your shadowy corner so far?”

“Just the right amount of dark and chill, thanks.”

“Come on, Maxillar. Stop moping and come out in the sun for a bit.”

“I hate the sun.”

“But you need your vitamin D.”

“I’m a lesbian, you prick.”

“I know.”

She took pity on the confused frown and smirked. “Don’t hurt yourself, Braun. It’s nice to know your thick skull is hiding a very pure mind.” Reiner Braun’s eyebrows slanted inwards in a deeper frown.

“Hey, play nice.” Said a new voice.

The second guy was a much more welcome face and she mock-pouted at him.“Whaaat. I _am_ being nice.”

He ignored her. “Reiner, Bert was looking for you. Something about last quarter’s projected earnings not matching up…”

Braun smirked. “You’re trying too hard, man. I don’t want to see the two of you do your salty comedy bit anyway, so lay off on the made-up excuses, will you.”

With a quick nod at both of them, Brawny Braun walked away.

“You underestimate him,” she told him.

Porco Galliard leaned back against the wall next to her and offered her a cigarette. She accepted with a grunt. “So do you,” he said, his voice muffled against his cigarette. “He’s supposed to be top class.”

“I thought that was a term reserved for _her_?”

Both of them glanced across the crowded patio over at a tall, stone-faced brunette.

“Oh god those _legs_ ,” she murmured reverentially. “And those thunder thighs…”

“Now you’re being gross.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, porkpie.”

“Fuck you too.”

Ymir grinned and turned back to the captivating woman. “So she’s your latest interest, huh,” Porco observed.

“Sure, let’s call it that. _Interest_.”

“You in love with her or something?” He asked, grimacing with disgust.

Ymir laughed. “You’re talking like you don’t know who she is.” When he shrugged, she continued, “Wait, you don’t know who she is?”

“I’ve seen her around…”

She slapped him upside his head, and  ignoring his outraged “Ow!” she exclaimed, “Porkie! Where the fuck have you been _living_?”

“Don’t call me that-”

“That’s Mikasa Ackerman.”

Porco’s anger seemed to melt away. “ _That’s_ the woman that made Zeke shit his pants?”

“The one and only.” She smirked. “Though I hear it was her cousin who did the actual shit-inducement.”

“I’ve heard of them,” he said, looking impressed.

“Damn right you have. Along with being the youngest Account Manager this branch has seen, she is also an MMA enthusiast and has a pole up her ass so stiff she can’t be anything _but_ straight.”

“Oh,” Porco’s brow cleared.

“That’s right. I report to her. And stay the fuck away from her in every other way.” She tapped the ash from her cigarette into the potted plant next to her, and her smirk widened. “But I’m always up for admiring from a distance. I mean, _look_ at those _legs_.”

“You’re taller than her,” Porco said unhelpfully.

“And you’re dumber than crap because who cares how long the legs actually are, dumbass? It’s the _ratio_ that matters, the goddamn sleekness that _adds_ to a woman’s figure.” She frowned at him. “You’d confuse Venus de Milo with Velma frigging Jenkins.”

Porco shrugged and tapped his ash straight onto the floor, irking her. “Isn’t that the Flintstones chick?”

“Ugh, nevermind, you philistine. Just let me check out ass in peace.”

Porco flicked away his unfinished cigarette and patted his pockets. “Right, that’s my cue. I’m outta here before you start fingering yourself.”

“That’s inappropriate at the workplace, asshole,” she called out to his retreating back.

He simply flipped her off without turning around and went on his way. Chuckling, Ymir turned back to crowd watch, still not quite in the mood to mingle yet.

“Are you done with that?”

 _What, already?_ Ymir took a deep breath to prepare herself for the inevitable socialising, and turned to the newcomer. Then felt her breath escape her lungs in a single, silent gasp.

The girl (surely she was just a girl?) was looking at the cigarette between Ymir’s fingers, which currently had nearly an inch of untapped ash on one end.

“Uhh…” Ymir said smartly.

“Sorry, I just felt like a quick puff,” the girl continued calmly, then beamed up at her. “Don’t tell my friends, though. I’m trying to quit.”

There was a lump in Ymir’s throat the size of a golf ball. She couldn’t utter a sound. This girl… that _smile_ …

Wordlessly, Ymir handed the cigarette to the girl, who tapped the excess ash off expertly into the potted plant before placing it between her small lips. Ymir's gaze was stuck on those lips.

“Ahh, that’s the stuff,” the girl sighed, and Ymir felt heat pounding through her with every erratic beat of her heart.

She took another puff before turning back to Ymir with that sunny smile on her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Krista. Krista Lenz.”

Ymir grasped the outstretched hand on autopilot. It felt incredibly soft and fragile in her own large, brown hand. “Maxillar. Ymir.” She managed to mumble.

“Ymir Maxillar. That’s an unusual name.”

She’d been asked this question a thousand times before, but she didn’t mind it coming from this girl. “I had unusual parents,” she said, hoping for the first time in her life that she didn’t sound rude.

Krista’s smile seemed to flicker and crack, and it took on a more morbid twist. _Fascinating_. “Hah. I bet they’re not as unusual as _my_ parents.”

“I think we all think that,” Ymir said, still enraptured by the sudden mirror-like quality that the girl’s blue eyes took, making her look much older. It was mesmerising, really, like a light flickering on and off inside her, her face sunny one moment, wintry bright the next.

The girl - _Krista_ \- smirked. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

She handed back the cigarette to Ymir who puffed at it almost too eagerly, acutely aware that the last lips this stub had touched were not hers.

“So, which department are you in, Ymir Maxillar?” Her face was a smear of sunshine again.

“Accounts.”

“How exciting! I’m in Customer Rels though I’d like to migrate to HR if I could.”

“Why?” She asked her curiously.

Krista seemed surprised by her question. “Oh! Um, because I like to help people.”

Ymir couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “Really?”

“Why is that funny?” Oh god, she was angry. And goddamn, did she look _adorable_.

“It’s just…” Luckily Ymir seemed to be getting the use of her vocal chords again. “You wouldn't expect such idealism from a corporate stooge, is all.”

Krista’s perfectly-shaped eyebrows narrowed in a frown. “That’s what I’d like to change. This company’s not half bad but I think several of its policies could use some revamping. No one should have to feel like a _stooge_.”

“How refreshing,” Ymir drawled, handing her the cigarette. “Krista Lenz, the saviour of the Eldian masses.”

Krista took a pensive puff of the cigarette, seemingly unconcerned by her jibe. “I know it sounds unrealistic, but we did cover many case studies in graduate school, and-”

“You have a masters?” Ymir blurted. Krista looked like she had been recruited as an intern straight out of high school.

“I have an MBA.” Then, seeming suddenly self-conscious, she continued, “Like I said, I’ve studied this. Eldia Corp is sound. It started off with the best intentions, but I’m afraid it’s lost some of its core values along the way.” Her frown deepened. “Not to mention its policies in dealing with the competition.”

“Yeah, burying your head in the sand is hardly a good policy in any economy, much less this one,” Ymir nodded. “Meanwhile, Marley’s stocks are rising everyday.”

“Exactly. What we need is a redo, an upheaval of the entire corporate structure, all the way up to management. That’s the only way we’ll survive.”

“You sound like those firebrands.” Ymir nodded at the large group of people that Reiner Braun was currently regaling with one of his stories, a group that contained the infamous Eren Jaeger.

Krista’s lovely face lost some of its seriousness and she smiled. “Oh! I’m friends with some of them… do you know those people?”

Ymir sighed. “Unfortunately.”

Krista giggled, and again, Ymir felt a shudder of heat pass through her, which didn’t even make sense. Why the fuck was she shivering if she felt hot?

“Well, they’re nice. I like spending time with them.” She threw an almost shy look up at her. “I haven’t seen you around, though.”

“No. Nor have I you,” Ymir rasped. Their gaze held for a long moment before both of them turned away.

“So,” Ymir said quickly, trying not to let the conversation end, “how do you know them?”

“Sasha -you know Sasha? Yeah, Sasha and I were in the same induction batch. Oh, and,” she paused, cheeks flushing prettily, “and Reiner Braun and I used to date.”

“You _what_?”

Krista’s blush deepened and Ymir didn’t know whether to feel offended that Brawny Braun had managed to tap that ass first, or to completely lose herself to Krista’s very alluring red cheeks. “We… weren’t together long. Our interests… varied.”

“I’ll say,” Ymir said, still thunderstruck. “He’s gay.”

“Well, more or less.”

Ymir stared at her. Krista stared at the floor. “ _More or less_? How can he be more or less gay?”

“Oh! No, that’s not what I meant.” She bit her lip and holy shit did Ymir finally understand what a ‘rosebud mouth’ actually looked like. “I meant to say we _both_ had different interests. I -I’d be a hypocrite if I called him out.”

Ymir stared at her as the words washed over her, their meaning taking time to settle into her brain. Then, she could only wheeze, “Oh.”

Krista smiled. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Ymir said again, and brushed her hand through her choppy hair. “Wow. Okay.” A beat of silence, then she blurted, “Are you single?”

Krista let out a startled laugh. “What?”

 _Fuck_. “Fuck!” She gasped, then took a small step back. “Shit, I’m sorry, that was stupid-” What the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she acting like a stupid, sweaty teenager? _What the fuck was wrong with her?_

“I’m single,” Krista confirmed in a small voice. She flashed a shy glance up at her before looking away again, focusing unduly on the cigarette she was grinding into the floor with her shoe.

 _Wow_. Ymir took a moment to notice that her jaw had dropped and quickly closed her mouth before Krista could see. Then, heart thundering in her chest, she asked casually, “So what are you doing after this?”

Krista's smile widened but she still looked away. “I -I have no plans.”

“Would you like to go out and get a drink?” Ymir was still deceptively calm.

There followed a second of silence which was nothing but pure agony for her. Then Krista looked up at her, beaming. “I’d like that very much.”

“Good.” Ymir figured that her own cheeks would have been crimson by now, had it not been for her helpful brown skin. “I’ll meet you at the entrance after this shindig’s done?”

It had not seemed possible, but Krista seemed to radiate with even more joy. “Definitely.” She leaned up on tiptoes (she was adorably _tiny_ , holy shit) and Ymir leaned down reflexively. Krista pressed a quick, soft kiss on her cheek that brushed the corner of her mouth. For the life of her, Ymir could not have spoken a word at that moment.

“I’ll see you soon, Ymir,” she whispered and leaned back. Then, with a final beatific smile at her, she slipped away.

Ymir stood frozen, still reeling from the sunny smile and the blue, blue eyes and the lingering scent of freesia and tobacco. It was heady and fucking intoxicating, and Ymir felt like she was stepping away from the brilliance of some otherworldly, hallowed presence. Fuck, she was in _deep_ shit.

Some guy, who she only recognised to be Connie Springer much later, paused as he walked past her.

“Are you okay? You look weird.”

Ymir shook her head. “Just been getting some vitamin D.” Then, cackling hysterically, she bounded off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> “Maxillar” comes from the latin maxillaris, which means “of or pertaining to the jaw”. See what I did there?
> 
> I have been told by too many people lately to “soak up the vitamin D” and that has inevitably appeared in this fic, sorrynotsorry.
> 
> My first Yumikuri fic, yaye! Hope they’re not OOC. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Reunion (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[anonymous asked:
> 
> How about reunion cuddles for eremika. Like they just lay in bed and hold eachother maybe take note of the changes theyve gone through like Mikasa's new short hair. Just im gald your alive and just want to hold you and feel your heart beat fulff.]]
> 
> Thank you so much for the lovely ask, anon!! I’ve tried to keep plot points as minimal as possible since things are still being revealed to us.
> 
> This fic takes place with the assumption that Eren snuck out and met the SC after he sent them the letter, and before the insane battle that’s happening right now.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> —————

She was excited, and she was sure everyone could tell. When the letter arrived it had sent everyone into a tizzy, which was like a breath of fresh air after the tense weeks before. As for her, she turned into a blur of activity, in turns strict and relaxed, puzzling her juniors and amusing her friends with her antics.

When she finally - _finally_ -saw him, it was with everyone else, all solemn and anxious to plan their attack. She reined herself in and stayed as serious as the others; they barely gave each other nods of acknowledgement before being swept into the wave of tactics and strategies.

After the meeting was over, everyone was exhausted, and nervous too, for their plan was reckless in many ways. But they had done all they could, and now all that remained was to put the plan in action. When they began to disperse, she hung back, trying to catch his eye. Before she could reach him, she saw Levi approach him, say something that made him look more serious than usual. And before she could say a word, he gave Levi a brief nod and walked away with him.

She hadn’t even said a word to him, except for hashing battle plans. And now he was already gone.

“Come on, Mikasa. Time to rest.” Sasha nudged her shoulder and Mikasa frowned.

“I -I think I’ll wait.”

Sasha blinked at her. “Eren said he’d be heading back to the hospital. They can’t find his bed empty.”

She managed to hide the twinge of pain in her chest. “Of course.” A pause, a discreet, deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Sasha’s eyes were soft and kind, and, without saying a word, she led her away.

*

In her dream, she was a little girl again. She was standing under the tree in Wall Maria, past the windmills, where Eren liked to have his afternoon naps. But it wasn’t Eren under that tree. It was a grown man, long-haired and bedraggled, missing a leg and an eye. He stood facing away from her, and no matter how much she called him, how many times she tried to hold his hand, he’d turn away, never facing her, never looking at her, always out of reach-

“Eren!”

“Shh. Hey.”

Her heart was racing like wild horses, her breaths loud and heaving. It took a second for her to realise that she was in bed. And that she was not alone.

She twisted around wildly, already bringing her clenched fist up when it was caught in a tight grasp and a very familiar voice murmured, “Hey, hey. It’s me.”

Her limbs went slack and her eyes widened. “Eren,” she breathed.

His face was inches from hers and she was once again drowning in those deep, deep eyes of his. “Hi.” A twitch of the corners of his mouth. “Shit. You’re still freakishly strong.”

Without another word, she surged forward and grasped him tight, burying her face into his shoulder. She heard his gasp of surprise but he didn’t push her away; in the next moment she felt his warm, strong arms circle her waist and pull her closer.

He was so _warm_. When Eren was around, she never felt the cold. She breathed in his scent, faint traces of him buried deep under the foreign clothes and the foreign name, something irreplaceably, immutably _Eren_.

“I missed you, too,” he breathed into her hair, and she felt like sobbing. Instead, she turned and moved her head until her ear was right over his chest and his heart thundered beneath her, rooting her emotions, calming her.

“You’re alive,” she whispered.

“You’re alive,” he repeated, curling his finger under her chin and chucking her head up so that their eyes could meet.

“I missed you,” she said.

He leaned down. “I know.”

When his lips pressed onto hers, it was like time came to a shuddering stop. Every nervous thought, every pent-up emotion that had been raging inside Mikasa seemed to burn away. All that mattered was him holding her and his lips on hers. No other place brought her as much peace.

When he broke away, he sighed, “I can’t stay long.”

She sighed too. “I know.”

“I -I wish I could stay, but you know I have to-”

She placed a finger on his mouth. “I know. How about we not talk about that right now?”

His shoulders slumped, but he ran his fingers through her hair. “Okay.”

She smiled. “Good.”

He smiled back at her and it hurt her physically to realise how rare that smile had become.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, twisting a strand of her hair in his fingers.

Her response was immediate. “You look terrible.”

He stared at her in shock for a moment before collapsing into soundless laughter. “Ouch,” he snorted.

She grinned and rubbed her thumb on his stubbled cheek. “It’s true.”

“What, I’m not fashionable enough to match up to your standards?”

“No, you’re just not clean enough.”

Eren began to shake with laughter again, and she felt her grin widen and joy bloom like a flower in her chest.

“What is it with you Ackermans and your cleaning? Does it run in the family?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is it with long hair and _your_ family?” She flipped a lock of his hair over his shoulder. “Honestly, Eren, if you were so jealous of my hair you should’ve just told me.”

Eren chuckled and pulled her close again. “I’ve missed you so much,” he muttered.

She sighed and her smile softened. “Me too.” She looked up at him. “How long can you stay?”

He leaned in and kissed her gently on her forehead. “Until you fall asleep.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She snuggled closer to him, wrapping her scarf around both of them while Eren rubbed her back in warm, soothing strokes. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep very soon but was surprised when she realised she was nodding off. Gathering up the rest of her lucidity, she mumbled, “Eren?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ll see you soon?”

She felt a warm pressure on her nose that she realised only later was a kiss. “Very soon.”

His soft whisper remained with her even after she woke up the next morning. And though her bed was cold and lonely again, his voice continued to echo in her ears, bringing her warmth, strengthening her resolve. Very soon, they would be putting their plans in motion. Very soon, she would have to fight a dangerous battle.

Very soon, she would see Eren again. And that was all that mattered.


	11. PTSD (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Anonymous asked:  
> Are you okay with writing somewhat "edgier" topics like mental illness, etc? Obviously not in a romanticizing or offensive way, but like including themes of it in your works?]]
> 
> Ahhh, this one really made me hesitate. I have dealt with difficult topics like abuse before, but always after some heavy thinking about whether or not I could pull it off in a respectful, educated manner. So I had to do some reading to be able to portray what I ended up writing, hopefully it comes across as believable and not in the slightest romanticized, which is what I always intended.
> 
> Thanks for the ask, anon, this was quite a writing exercise! I hope you like it!
> 
> Warnings: Depiction of/ discussion about PTSD, one swear word.
> 
> Modern AU

———--

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s PTSD?”

Dr. Jaeger put away the medical journal he was reading and looked at his son.

“Where did you hear that, Eren?”

Eren looked away shiftily. “I heard Mum talking to Armin’s Grandpa.’

“I see.”

Taking courage, perhaps, from his calm tone, Eren turned back to his father and continued, “I heard her say Mikasa has it. Is she sick? Is she okay?” He leaned forward and demanded, “Are you giving her medicines for it?”

Dr. Jaeger smiled and lifted Eren up, perching him on the arm of the couch. This was a common occurrence: for years, Eren would come running to his father with some question or the other, and Dr. Jaeger would sit him down and patiently explain what he could to the best of his abilities. Lately that had become more rare, and the man couldn’t help but feel a little sad when he saw that Eren looked like he would soon outgrow the couch arm.

“PTSD is an abbreviation, Eren.”

“Like world wide web?”

“More like Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Eren’s face brightened. “Oh! What does it stand for?”

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

He saw Eren visibly try to grasp the words and latch onto the simplest one. “Stress? She’s stressed?”

Knowing that Eren’s only experience with the word had been related to his mother and an overworked teacher or two, Dr. Jaeger explained gently, “Stress can mean many things, Eren. One of those meanings is the state of having too many emotions to deal with, to the extent that it physically tires or affects you. It can be any emotion -for Mikasa, it’s fear.”

Eren frowned. “She’s scared? But she knows she’s okay now. She knows she has me.”

At that Dr. Jaeger had to smile. “I’m sure she knows, Eren. But you understand how fear works, don’t you? You know how difficult it is to face it and surpass it.” He paused and thought of an example. “Do you remember the crocodile pit at the zoo?”

Eren frowned. “Yes.”

“Do you remember how long it took for you to not be scared of it? Do you remember for how long you had nightmares about it?”

“Yeah.” Another grumble.

“Now, can you imagine the depth of Mikasa’s fear, after what happened to her and to her parents?”

Eren was unnaturally quiet. Dr. Jaeger, if anything, was patient enough, and waited for Eren’s response. Finally, after a long silence, Eren muttered, “I understand.”

“Good.”

Eren flashed a determined gaze at his father. “How can I help?”

Dr. Jaeger thought long and hard before replying. “By reminding her that she _is_ safe, that you _are_ there for her. The fear may make her forget sometimes, but you have to lead her back to you. Gently, you understand. She is already hurting.” Eren nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with solemn intent. “If it gets too bad, come and get me, or your mother, or a responsible adult.”

“So, not Officer Hannes?”

Dr. Jaeger laughed. “Now you’re being cheeky. No, Officer Hannes knows what he’s doing. You can go to him, too.”

“Okay.” A wrinkle of concern still stood between his brows. His father squeezed his shoulder. “I won’t lie to you, Eren. It’ll take time for her to heal, and you have to be patient with her. But eventually… she’ll find her way back.”

“And stay with me forever?”

“For as long as she likes.”

“Forever, then,” Eren nodded.

*

“Mikasa.” He rapped more urgently on the door. “Mikasa, open the door.”

Silence.

“Miks…” He leaned his forehead on the cold wood. “It’s me. Come on, open the door.” He kept tapping on the door. When he still heard nothing, his voice rose. “Mikasa? Mikasa, open the door.” He began to bang the door with his fist. “Open the damn door, Mikasa. Open the door!”

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

And yet, no response.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and stepped back, glancing over his shoulder. None of their friends seemed to have heard him. He turned back to the door and slammed both his hands on it. “Mikasa!”

He thought he heard a low whimper from beyond the door. It could have been his imagination, but he was panicking more with every passing second and he couldn’t take any chances.

“I’m coming in,” he called out loudly. “Stay away from the door, okay?”

If he hoped for a response, he wasn’t satisfied. There was no other sound but for his own heartbeat thundering within him. He took a running start and slammed his side into the door. The flimsy lock gave way immediately and the door swung open with a crash.

And hunched up on the floor, with her chin on her knees and her hands in her hair, was Mikasa.

“Mikasa!” He sank onto his knees right in front of her. Her deep grey eyes were fixed on a single tile of the bathroom floor, and she was rocking back and forth. She seemed lost to her immediate surroundings.

He hadn’t seen her like this in years.

“Hey.” He leaned forward until his face was in her line of sight. “Hey, it’s me,” he said gently.

Her wide, unblinking eyes were still unfocused.

Slowly, carefully, he reached forward and put his hands on her wrists. “Hey, Miks. It’s Eren.”

She finally blinked, and slowly, almost painfully, concentrated her gaze on him. Her jaw trembled and a visible shudder shook her. “E-Eren,” she wheezed. Her face spasmed with agony and shaking words poured out of her mouth. “It’s not safe, they’re here, they’re going to kill us all, it’s not safe, it’s not safe-”

“Hey, hey. They’re gone, remember? You’re fine, now, remember, Mikasa?” He grasped her wrists tighter, steeling himself against the shudders that were rushing through her. “Remember where we are?” He leaned even closer to her and pushed aside a fringe of his messy hair from his forehead, and murmured, “Remember this?”

She was shaking like a leaf now. “N-no, we have to run, we have to hide, it’s not safe-”

“Hey, look.” Slowly, like it was made of glass, he detached one of her hands from her hair and placed it on his forehead instead. “Remember how I got that scar?”

“I -I…”

“I was trying to skateboard, remember? And I hit my head on the pavement? Do you remember how quickly you got me to the hospital? Do you remember how many stitches my dad had to give me?”

Her mouth moved soundlessly.

He shifted his other hand and cupped her face, gently brushing her cheekbone with his thumb. “How many stitches did I have to get, Mikasa?”

A long, tentative moment of silence. Then-

“… Eight.”

Relief surged through his veins and he let out a sigh. “Yes. Eight stitches. Can you count the scars now? Could you do that for me?”

Slowly, still quivering, she nodded. He squeezed her hand warmly. “Let’s count together.”

Softly, as if afraid to touch him, she placed the tip of her finger on the edge of his scar. “One,” they whispered. Her cool fingertip moved. “Two,” he prompted her, and she repeated after him. And slowly, very, _very_ slowly, she counted all eight of the stitches, Eren counting with her all the way.

At the eighth mark, her finger still lingered on his forehead, her jaw was still trembling. He pressed his hand more firmly on her cheek. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

It happened in a moment: she took a deep, shuddering breath, and fell forward into his embrace. She was the strongest person he knew, and yet she seemed extremely delicate as she shook and heaved loud, dry sobs into his chest. He held her close, tight, and rubbed soothing circles on her back. His lips were pressed on her head and his words were muffled, but it was obvious to both of them what he was saying.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s fine, I’m here, I’m here now…”

“Eren,” she wheezed, and the pure agony in her voice seemed to rip through him as well.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he continued, rocking them both together, warming her stone cold limbs. His gaze flitted over the various objects in Mina Carolina’s bathroom, before finally finding what he was looking for.

A pair of sewing scissors glinted from under the bathtub. He had a sudden vision of a bloodstained pair of very similar scissors, lying not far from the outstretched hand of a dead woman. Gritting his teeth, he discreetly kicked the scissors farther into the gap, until it was completely out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa whispered.

“It’s okay.” He kissed her on top of her head. “You found your way back.”

“Please stay,” her voice shook.

He kissed her again. “For as long as you need.”

And in the quiet, he heard something that finally made him smile again.

“Forever,” Mikasa said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I read up about PTSD as much as I could, but obviously, if you think I’ve made an insensitive/inaccurate mistake, please let me know.
> 
> The method Eren uses to get Mikasa out of her episode is a common one used to ground the person and literally lead them back into the present (counting things, etc.) and away from their traumatic past.
> 
> Mikasa’s trigger was, as explained, the pair of sewing scissors, in a nod to canon.
> 
> Again, her episode is meant to be angst and not romantic at all. Mikasa is suffering and Eren has to help her as well as he can. This is not perfect and far from ideal, but the point is, they are in love, DESPITE her trauma, and not BECAUSE of it. I hope that’s the sentiment this story leaves you with.
> 
> Thanks again for the ask anon, and thanks for reading! :)


	12. Spellbound (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[jungianca6 asked:  
> Mmmm... oh I know! How about this for a prompt: Eren doing his best to invite goth Mikasa to the prom]]
> 
>  
> 
> Oh my GOD, I loved this ask! Here you go, Isayama’s high school AU! :)
> 
> Swearing ahead, of course.

* * *

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You just watch me.”

“Sure.”

Eren stepped off his skateboard and stopped in front of his best friend, frowning. “You don’t think I’m gonna do it, do you?”

Armin sighed and put aside his book. “No, Eren. I believe in you.” It sounded like he was saying something he had learnt by rote, so Eren’s frown deepened.

“You really don’t think I can do it?”

“You _can_ ask her. It’s more of a question of if you _want_ to.”

“Of course I fucking want to,” Eren snapped.

“You don’t look happy about it.”

“Well yeah, obviously. It’s _her_.”

Armin quirked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

Eren flailed his hands in an effort to emphasise his words. “It’s Mikasa.”

“And?”

“ _Mikasa_.”

“ _And_?” Armin insisted.

With a huff Eren collapsed on the bench next to him. After a pause, he muttered, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start what?”

Both boys jumped and scrambled to their feet, only to see a pair of cool blue eyes casually looking down on them from a point far below their chins.

“Hey, Annie,” Eren mumbled and sank onto his bench again. Armin merely greeted her with, “Eren wants to ask Mikasa to prom.”

Eren shot him a glare, even as Annie crinkled her nose. “Ew. Why her?”

“Why not her?” Eren demanded.

“I dunno. Isn’t she your sister or something?”

Eren’s nostrils flared. “She’s _not_ my sister-”

“Whatever.” She sat on the bench next to him and fished out a cigarette from her guitar case. “I don’t care.”

Eren reflexively pulled the cigarette from her mouth and tossed it away before she could light it. She turned to glare daggers at him. “Did I not beat you up enough in PE, Jaeger?”

“Better me than your lungs,” he shrugged.

“Ugh. See? This is why.” She turned to Armin. “You see what I mean?”

Armin smirked. “Yeah.”

“What? What is it?”

Annie turned back to him. “ _You_. You’re like this goody-two-shoes nutcase filled with ‘righteous anger’ and ‘just ideals’.” Each word of hers was a mocking barb. “While she… can beat you into a pulp better than I can. _And_ she’s into that whole voodoo, witchy shit.” She glanced at Armin. “Why does he want to go with her again?”

Armin was still grinning. “Beats me -ow!” Eren had grabbed his wrist so tightly his nails were digging into his skin. “Eren, what-”

“We have to go,” Eren muttered, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “Now.”

Armin yanked his hand away and stood up. “Okay… Um, where?”

Eren's response stunned both of them.

“The Library.”

*

“You want to look for a _what_?”

Eren tutted impatiently. “A love potion. Or a voodoo spell. Something like that.”

Armin looked aghast. “Why?!”

“Weren’t you listening?” Eren demanded, running his fingers over the spines of the books in the nearest shelf. “I need to ask Mikasa to the prom.”

“With a _voodoo spell_?”

Eren simply nodded and Armin rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“Eren,” he said tiredly. “Please explain.”

Eren simply shrugged, his eyes still flitting over the book titles. “You and Annie were right. Mikasa’s into this stuff, right? So I’ll have to ask her in a way that means something to her.” He paused, frowning. “'A Brief History of Time’. This doesn’t look very witchy.”

Armin’s mind was still reeling. “That’s because you’re in the astronomy section.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eren snapped. “So there should be stuff about the zodiac signs and shit right?”

“You… you think _the zodiac_ has something to do with _voodoo_?” Armin asked weakly.

“Doesn’t it?”

Armin sank into a nearby chair with a sigh. “Oh, god. Oh my _fucking_ god. Eren. Star signs come under _astrology_.” He paused. “And they don’t have anything to do with voodoo.” He paused again. “And Mikasa doesn’t have anything to do with voodoo.”

Eren turned to him, still frowning. “Then what-”

“She’s into vampires and stuff.”

“Then that's… what? Satanic?” Eren’s eyes widened and he smirked. “Okay, then I need to look for a satanic ritual love potion type spell thingie.” He looked around. “Where can I find something like that?”

Armin floundered for words for a long moment. Then, jumping to his feet, he muttered, “Google. Just google that shit and leave me the hell out of this.” Without another word, he grabbed his books and stomped away, leaving a very confused Eren behind.

“What’s _his_ problem?”

*

**Text conversations**

**Armin Alertface - Monday**

Hey

Hey armin

_What._

Where can I get a red candle

_Leave me alone._

**Armin Alertface - Tuesday**

Ar

talk to me man

_Is it about school?_

Yes!

_Is it about prom?_

… no?

_Fuck off._

**Krista Lenz - Tuesday**

Hey Krista i had a question

_Hi Eren! Sure, tell me!_

Where can i get red candles

Or pink

and clov oil

_Um…_

_What is this for exactly?_

Project

_Ok. Um hang on._

Ok

_You can try the organic store on Curzon Street._

Ok cool thnx!!!

_No problem. :)_

**Krista Lenz - Wednesday**

Hey Krista

Need another favor man

_Hi Eren. Tell me._

Where can i get doves blood

Tht organic place dint have the stuff so…

_(Seen at 9.43 pm)_

**Ymir - Wednesday**

_Hey fuckface_

Hello to you to ymir

_Leave my girl alone._

I just asked her smthng!!!!

_You’re harassing her. Leave her alone._

Ok fine wtever

Fuckin psycho

_You know it bitch._

**Annie Leonhardt - Thursday**

Hey dude

Need ur help

_Is this some voodoo shit?_

Cmon man! I need doves blood urgently!!!

You got dealers rite

Can you hook me up w one o them

Pls

Pleease

im begging you

Pls its urgent

_(Seen at 10.27 pm)_

**Armin Alertface - Friday**

Ar

Ar pls

Ar you gotta talk to me

Pls man

Ur my best frnd

i dont know who else to ask

come on ar

_What is it Eren?_

I need doves blood

_Ok I’ll bite._

_Why do you need dove’s blood?_

Candles arent working

_How do you know? Did you ask her yet?_

… no

_Eren wtf._

She doesnt look at me any different ok

i can tell

_Oh my god._

Dude pls

help me

_…_

_You know, I’m not your only best friend._

_And there’s someone else you can ask about this._

Who???

_You know who._

…

no.

Fuck no.

Id rather ask fuckin voldemort

_Seriously?_

Dude iys suppose to be a suprisr

she cant knoe wht im doin ok

_Calm down. And consider it._

_That’s all the help I can give you._

Ur no fuckin help

 _Bye_.

No wait!!!

i take it back!

cmon Ar!!!

_(Seen at 11.45 pm)_

**Mikasa - Saturday**

Hey Miks?

Busy?

i gotta question

_Hi Eren_

_Tell me._

… (typing)

_Eren?_

Ya

_Are you okay?_

Ya

Why

_You’ve been typing for a while?_

its

its a weird question

_Okay…_

…(typing)

_**(Incoming call from Mikasa)** _

“Hey, Mikasa.”

“Eren, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Seriously, don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“…What did you want to ask me?”

“…”

“Eren?”

“Have you been feeling any different lately?”

“What?”

“Like, new feelings and stuff. Like… happy and… stuff.”

“Eren, what’s going on?”

“…Do you believe in voodoo?”

“What.”

“Voodoo. Spells. Satanic rituals.”

“… They’re different things.”

“Yeah, Armin told me.”

“Is that what you want to talk about?”

“Yes. Actually no… well, yes, but…”

“… But?”

“…”

“Eren-”

“Are you going to prom?”

“Uh, I don’t know yet. No one’s asked me yet.”

“D'you… do you wanna go with me?”

“…”

“Mikasa-”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to prom with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“…Shit. Wow. Okay.”

“… I’ll see you at school then?”

“Uhh, yeah. Yes. Absolutely.”

“Bye, Eren.”

“Bye Miks.”

_**(Mikasa ended call)** _

_Btw._

Ya?

_I didn’t use any of that stuff on you._

_In case you were wondering._

Wht stuff??

_Voodoo_

_Spells._

_Satanic rituals._

i know :)

_:)_

_Good night Eren_

Sweet dreams Miks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And there you go! I hope the text conversations are easy to read with the formatting.
> 
> I adore Armin being a sarcastic lil bitch, sorrynotsorry.
> 
> Also, I’ll have you know I actually googled “satanic ritual love potion type spell”. This will forever be marked against me. I hope you’re happy with yourself.
> 
> Thanks again for the amazing ask and thanks for reading! :)


	13. Beach Day (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Anonymous asked : Maybe some EreMika fluff at the ocean? :00]]
> 
> First of all, thank you so much for this prompt, anon! Second of all, I am so sorry for the delay, I think it’ll be explained when you read the HUMONGOUS block of text that my brain spewed for this amazing little prompt…
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, a lot of snark. Really, like an insane amount of it.
> 
> Modern AU

 

I’m going to die. This is at least the tenth time my mind has spewed this thought into my consciousness and this is the tenth time that I’m kinda maybe agreeing.

I am going to die. And I totally blame my murderous best friend, Eren Jaeger.

To be fair, I am as culpable as him in causing the various series of events that will soon culminate in my probable death. And while Eren’s astonishing single-mindedness goes in his favour, I have nothing to fall back on, nothing to blame. I am what I think, and I have disgraced my intellect and my “formidable grey cells”, all because I am a stupid, hormonal _teenager_.

My apologies to the late Agatha Christie. I have failed her oh so miserably.

“C’mon, Armin! What’re you waiting for!”

“I’m gonna die,” I moan softly.

“Armin,” a calm voice mutters next to me, “stop being so dramatic.”

“ _Dramatic_?” I snap. “That thing is a death machine!”

Mikasa, my other, more rational best friend, sighs. “Not if Eren isn’t driving it.”

“But you haven’t driven it before, either!”

She manages to cast a dark look at me in the brilliance of a very sunny day. “Do you doubt my driving skills?”

Even though I’m sweating from the heat, her look makes me shudder. _Damn_. “No,” I say meekly.

“Then let’s go.” She checks the straps of my life-saver, more for my benefit than hers, I think gratefully, and leads me to the edge of the water. And yet, I can’t help the panicking, screaming thoughts in my head. This is all my fault. All on me, for goading Eren and keeping the wondrous excitement for the ocean alive through our entire childhood.

See, this is our first time at the beach, and we’ve never seen the ocean before. We grew up in a small town, nestled in hills far, far away from the vibrant seaside city called Trost, where we started college like a week ago. Growing up, our families managed to feed, clothe and educate us as well as they could, but not much else. Going to the seaside felt like a distant dream, a fairy tale. Hell, even _leaving_ Shiganshina was a big deal. But now, thanks to scholarships and an insane amount of penny-pinching and overtime, the three of us finally found ourselves in the long-sought magical land called _the beach_.

I hate it. I mean, I _love_ the sea, but Paradise Beach is so chock-full of tourists and “seaside activities” that you can’t take two steps without tripping over a sandcastle or a beach umbrella. It is loud, and hectic, and unsurprisingly, Eren’s made himself right at home.

And gone straight for the jet skis.

“Are you sure you kids can handle it?” Mr. Zacharias, the jet ski owner, shows his first sign of concern as Eren hops in place excitedly, splashing water everywhere.

“If we can’t, you can take it up with my uncle,” Mikasa shrugs.

“You, kid.” Mr. Zacharias turns to me, to my alarm. “You know her uncle?”

I get a vivid mental flashback of all the times I have met and been terrified of the man. I nod mutely. Mr. Zacharias scratches his goatee and gestures at Mikasa. “She anything like him?”

I swallow hard, wondering if I should lie. Then I say truthfully, “She’s exactly like him.”

I earn a sharp slap from Mikasa on my arm, but Mr. Zacharias laughs. “That’s good enough for me. Any brat of Levi’s is welcome to use it.”

“I’m not his brat,” Mikasa snarls. “Sure, kid,” Mr. Zacharias chuckles. “As long as all four of you come back in one piece I don’t really care.”

 _Four_ of us? -ah, I see he means the Super Fast Vehicle of Awful Death.

“You ready?” Eren grins at me as Mr. Zacharias gives Mikasa some final instructions.

“No,” I say frankly.

“Come on, Armin,” Eren says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “We’re all kickass at swimming.”

“In a pond. Or a river. With shallow currents.”

“We’ve got life vests.”

“It’s the ocean.”

“It’s low tide.”

“It’s still the ocean.”

Eren’s hand grasps my shoulder so tightly I wince. “I won’t let you die,” he says solemnly, looking straight into my eyes.

“On that note, let’s go jet skiing.” Mikasa deadpans behind us. Eren laughs, louder than necessary. I wonder if he’s feeling nervous too.

Mikasa grabs the handlebars, looks over the minimal controls, then glances back at us with a frown. “Armin’s in the middle.”

Eren, who already has one hand on her waist, frowns, too. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to die,” I say shortly and cut in front of him, straddling the seat behind Mikasa. Eren climbs on behind me in the next moment, unnaturally silent. Years of being his best friend and conspirator leaves my Spidey senses tingling.

Something is up with Eren.

If I’m being honest, something has been up with him for a while. How long exactly, I don’t know. I have definitely noticed it since we moved into our co-ed dorms a week ago. As to _what_ exactly is different about him… It’s difficult to put into words. A strange look here, an unexpected word there, a sudden silence or two where he’d ignore both me and Mikasa… I want to help, and I know she does too, but I don’t think either of us knows where to start. This beach day was supposed to help, but now, as I feel Eren’s loose grasp on my shoulder, I’m not so sure it’s helping at all.

But then everything is lost to me in the next moment when Mikasa revs up the machine, and then we are off.

*

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Eren’s asked this question four times already and it’s getting on my nerves.

“I’m _fine_. I just want to chill for a bit.”

“You sure?”

“Eren, go play in the sea and leave me the fuck alone,” I snap.

Eren snaps his mouth shut and again I see a glimmer of _something_ in his eyes. He had the same look just before we set off on that disastrous jet ski ride.

Mikasa had been a master at it, unsurprisingly. The number of times she had grabbed her uncle’s motorcycle back at home had guaranteed her an innate understanding of driving Fast Vehicles of Awful Death. I, however, did not have any such innate skill. For the first time in my life I wished I was on her motorcycle instead.

She is currently lying back on her towel which is next to mine, watching the people on the beach. “He means well,” she murmurs, her gaze following Eren’s form bob in and out of the ocean.

I sigh. “I know. I’ll apologize.”

She nods curtly. “You do that. Something seems to be bothering him.”

“You noticed it too?” I lean on my elbow and turn to her. She nods again. “I always notice.”

I watch her watching him, and suddenly, something clicks in my mind.

“Are _you_ okay, Mikasa?” I ask her.

She turns to me. “ _Me_? I’m not the one who threw up in the ocean.”

“Okay, I thought we agreed to never discuss that?”

A small smile appears on her face as she turns away again. “Oops.”

We are distracted in that moment by Eren, who jogs up to us, dripping seawater everywhere.

“Hey Miks,” he grins. “The water’s amazing. You should totally go for a swim.”

Mikasa weirdly enough glances at me. “Maybe later,” she mutters.

Eren’s smile slips off his face and there is that _something_ in Eren’s eyes again. “You two are fucking boring,” he grumbles and ambles away.

I can see the flush of hurt on Mikasa’s cheeks, and that is the point when I realise I’ve had enough. I rise to my feet, unsteady in the sand, and follow Eren.

“Eren, hey! Wait up!” I try to run to him but the damn sand is slowing me down. By the time I catch up to him I’m already panting slightly. I _hate_ this beach.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I wheeze immediately. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Eren’s eyes are still dark and I am suddenly aware that he is _angry_. “Okay.”

“Eren, really. I’m sorry I’m ruining this trip for you,” I continue, feeling more and more awful.

“Yeah, well, it’s too late now, isn’t it.” He makes to walk away again but I grab his hand. “Eren, come on, I said I’m sorry. Let’s all do something together. What do you want to do next?”

Eren yanks away his hand. “The fuck does it matter. You two do your thing together.”

I grasp his hand again. “No, but we-”

“I don’t need your fucking pity. Let go, Armin.”

I gape at him. “ _Pity_? We’re not-”

“I _said_ , let go of me!” Eren shoves me and I stumble onto my knees.

“Eren!” I hear Mikasa’s shout closer than I expected and Eren stiffens up. “What are you doing?” She demands as soon as she is by my side, helping me up.

“Oh look who’s here to rescue you,” he drawls. “Time for me to leave.”

This time it is Mikasa who grabs his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Eren pulls his hand away again. “Wrong with _me_? What’s wrong with _you_?” He jabs a finger at her and if she hadn’t stepped back he’d have poked her right in the chest. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you two really think I’m _that_ stupid?”

Mikasa’s frown deepens. “Eren, what’re you-”

“But you know what, maybe I’ve overestimated you guys. I mean, you’re the ones that are fucking stupid enough to think you can hide it from me.” Eren’s voice is a cruel snarl. “It figures. If you paid any attention at all apart from making gooey eyes at each other, maybe you wouldn’t have underestimated me like the fucking idiots that you are.”

_Wait what?_

“What.” Mikasa and I say at the same time.

“Don’t pretend, I know-”

“Eren.” Mikasa, always quick to react, always the brave one, manages to speak first. “Do you think Armin and I are going out together?”

Eren crosses his arms and throws us a look which is eloquent enough by itself. “ _Duh_ ,” it tells us.

Before I can respond in any way, Mikasa blurts, “Wait just one second. I thought you and Armin were together?”

_What. The. Actual. **Fuck?**_

It is now Eren’s turn for a jawdrop. I suddenly feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, like this is something happening to someone else. This is not me. This is not my life. These two _idiots_ cannot be my two bestest friends in the world. I meet their stupefied looks with one of my own, the shouts and the noise of the beach seeming far, far away, when it really, _properly_ hits me.

Eren is still dumbstruck by shock, and Mikasa is also always the stoic one, so it is me who breaks first.

It starts with a snort. Then a giggle. Then I am laughing so much I am doubled over in pain, clutching my stomach.

When I can look at their faces again, it nearly sends me over the edge of hysteria again. Eren looks like a puppy whose tail has been stepped on and Mikasa’s face is a careful frozen mask.

“Oh my god,” I wheeze, wiping tears from my eyes, “oh my _fucking_ god. Guys.” I smirk up at them. “I’m flattered, really I am, that you think I’m so irresistibly attractive. But let me just put this out there, once and for all.” I place each of my hands on their backs. “I love you. Both of you. Equally.” I pause to emphasise my next word. “ _Platonically_.”

Identical sheepish looks appear on their faces and something else clicks in my brain.

“As for you guys, they say communication is the most important aspect of a relationship. So stop being these sad, pining, _clueless_ idiots and _communicate_.” I see the flush creeping up Mikasa’s face and how Eren seems unable to meet her gaze anymore. My next action is immediate, instinctual.

I push them forward so abruptly their foreheads knock together and I command them, “Now, kiss.”

Then, with a beatific smile, I skip away, blissfully ignoring their shouts and cursing. They’ll thank me later.

*

Okay, I take it back. I don’t hate this beach, not really. The tourists are thinning out and the sun is setting over the water and turning the entire view into a breathtakingly varied palette of colours.

I could get used to this.

The next moment, I am knocked over by a veritable mass of muscle and bones and for a split moment I think my day of reckoning has come. Then I recognise the limbs entangled with my own and the breathless laughs sounding in my ears.

“ _Guys_!” I gasp shrilly, “what the fuck-”

Eren silences me with a loud, smack of a kiss on my cheek. “We love you too,” he grins, and Mikasa follows with an equally fervent kiss on my other cheek and adds, “Very much.”

“Ugh. Get off me, weirdos.”

They laugh but comply and pull me up with them. I have already packed up our meagre beach supplies and so we begin to make our way to the bus stop, where we have to take the last bus back to the University. Eren and Mikasa walk ahead of me and when I see how easily their hands twine together, a smile begins to form on my face.

Then they pause, turn to look at me, and just as easily slip their joined hands over my back, leading me ahead in the middle of their warm embrace. My smile widens.

I could _definitely_ get used to this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooo yeah. Sorry, not a lot of Eremika, but I just adore the interactions between these three and I’ve just missed writing them together! Plus, I enjoyed writing Armin’s POV so much this story basically wrote itself, I had none of this planned.
> 
> I’m sorry if you were expecting cute beachside cuddles. I gave you a bulldozed Armin instead, yaye!
> 
> Thanks so much for taking the time to read this insanely long story!


	14. Power Play (Mikasa x Annie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Femslash February 2018!
> 
> Day 23: Power
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, violence, almost-smut
> 
> Summary: Annie is a shameless flirt. Mikasa approves. Gang AU

 

For the right mood please listen to [this](https://youtu.be/a32z8TBe5Nc).

* * *

 

“This is it,” Reiner mumbles next to me.

“No shit.” I grasp the chain link fence and test its strength. Sturdy enough for me, possibly even the big guy. Without further ado, I pull myself up and flip across the fence, landing nimbly on my feet.

“Damn, Annie,” Reiner whistles. “You got some moves, man.”

“Keep it in your pants and come on already,” I mutter. Reiner makes it across pretty efficiently too, and we approach the large depression in the ground in front of us.

I raise an eyebrow. “Nice.”

Reiner smirks. “I know, right. Bet you didn’t have anything like this back at that ol’ dump of yours.”

He’s not wrong, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. “Right, because skating rinks are a top priority when you move to a new place.”

“Pssh, Stohess is too tame for you, man. I’m glad you’re back.”

I don’t like where this conversation is heading, so I change the subject. “What time did Bert say?”

“He said they’d be here by now-” His voice cuts off abruptly as we hear the unmistakable clang of someone jumping the fence ahead of us. It is sundown, and the edges of the rink are bathed in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, so we hear their footsteps before actually seeing them.

Eren Jaeger looks nothing like his brother. Dark where Zeke is fair, scrawny where Zeke is tall. His eyes, though, are terribly familiar: madness must run in the Jaeger family. He is accompanied by a tall, pretty girl whose pale skin seems to somehow glow in the waning light. I frown. This is hardly a place to bring your lapdogs along, and though she is dressed pretty modestly, I can’t imagine her being his second.

I scoff lightly. _What a bore._ I was hoping Eren would bring along some nice, bulky meathead in tow so I could revel in the high of beating someone twice my size into a pulp. Well, the girl will have to do. Bet she bruises nicely.

“Eren,” Reiner’s voice is cheerful, clashing horribly with the pipe he is wielding.

“Traitor,” Eren spits in greeting and leans on his baseball bat. The girl, unarmed like me, steps forward into the light. “Talk.”

A shudder runs down my spine. Several thoughts explode in my head. One, she is insanely _hot_. Her tight leather jacket and tighter dark jeans seem to set my veins on fire. Two, she is _scary_. Her face is colder, her voice more deadpan than mine, which is a feat in itself. Three, she is undoubtedly _dangerous_. Even standing still she radiates power, and I curl my fingers in anticipation. I _want_ to fight this girl. Badly.

“Now, now. We can do this the easy way,” Reiner grins. “You just have to agree to our terms.”

“And your terms haven’t changed?” The girl keeps speaking for Eren. I get a sudden mental image of a person barely holding back a leashed, rabid dog.

“Nope.” Reiner shrugs. “You know how Zeke can be.”

“Zeke can go fuck a cactus,” Eren snaps. “I’m not running with him.”

Reiner’s shoulders slump as if he is genuinely disappointed. “Aw, come on, man. You really want to turn your back on family?”

Eren straightens up and tightens his grip on the bat. His likeness to a dog is heightened by his snarl. “Don’t you _dare_ talk to me about fucking family-”

“Eren.” The girl’s voice is still low, almost melodious. I wonder what her scream sounds like.

“So you’ve decided.” Reiner actually sounds sad and I glance at him. I know he ran with the Eldian Devils for a while before his cover was exposed. I wonder how he got along with them. Somehow, I can see the answer etched on Eren’s furious face.

“Does that surprise you?” The girl asks him coldly.

“Nothing about you surprises me. Even you, Mikasa, still lookin’ hot as ever.”

 _Mikasa_. Mmm. Suits her.

She blinks prettily at him. “Fuck you.”

I can’t help it, I snort out loud. Everyone’s eyes are now on me and I smile sweetly. “Don’t mind me. Annie Leonhardt, nice to meet you.”

Eren’s eyes widen. “I’ve heard of you.”

I take a predatory step forward. “Yeah? What’ve you heard, pretty boy?”

To his credit, he doesn’t flinch, but that’s probably because Mikasa steps in front of him, in my way.

I place my hands on my hips. “Let me guess. I’ve gotta get through you first?”

“Oh look, this one can think,” she drawls, unamused. “And has quite the mouth on her.”

I mock-giggle. “Oh honey,” I trill, my fingers curling into fists, “you can’t even _begin_ to imagine what this mouth can do.”

Her glare is still dark and her hands are also balled into fists. And yet, I see her lips twitch, as though she is holding back a smile. _Interesting_.

Next to me, Reiner cracks his knuckles and sighs loudly. “The hard way it is, then.”

_Fucking finally._

Mikasa takes a small step to the side, Eren cracks his neck and twirls his bat easily before hefting it. It’s been a while since Reiner and I have worked together, but we’ve done this plenty of times for me to know that Reiner intends to take the first shot. So I let him lunge forward, perfectly aware of his every move and planning my own around him.

It is nothing compared to the two of them, though. They burst into action as though a gunshot has set them off. Eren raises his bat and rushes ahead to meet Reiner, and Mikasa ducks easily as though she saw his bat coming from behind her.

I step into the ring in the next moment, and it is as if they have anticipated me. Mikasa ducks again under my kick, jumps to avoid my immediate low sweep, and manages to throw a punch in the midst. I sidestep it and try to get Eren; without a word of warning, Mikasa crouches past me and slams into Reiner while Eren simultaneously swings his bat at me instead. They are so beautifully in sync I’m actually jealous. You could only move like this after years of fighting together.

It doesn’t dull my fight, though. They’re good, but so am I, so is Reiner. I easily avoid Eren’s swing and grab his dominant arm. With a split-second of maneuvering I bring him down onto his back, his snarls in my ear and his feet scrambling for purchase.

Nice try, kid. But that’s not how you get out of this chokehold.

I hear a garbled yell behind me and I leap out of the way just in time: Reiner comes crashing down straight on Eren, leaving them both stunned momentarily. I straighten up from my crouch and throw an impressed glance at Mikasa, who stands there calmly, hands loose, face blank, like throwing a dude nearly twice as heavy as her is no big deal.

 _Damn_ , I want to fight her.

We watch each other warily while the boys scuffle for a second or two; when Eren manages to kick Reiner away and gets to his feet, Mikasa is ready. She picks up Eren’s bat, which had rolled away, and tosses it to him, her eyes still on me. Eren catches it one-handed with _his_ eyes still on Reiner -their coordination is definitely impressive.

I can see why Zeke wants Eren with us. He should be proud of his loud, murderous kid brother. But he really should consider getting Mikasa to sign up instead.

“Aren’t you a beast?” I call out genially, even as Eren screams into action next to us. I can see from the corner of my eye that Reiner has retrieved his pipe, too, and is ready for him. Good, I don’t want to waste my time on those two.

Mikasa shrugs elegantly. “Takes one to know one.”

“Stop, I’m blushing,” I drawl, and take a step forward. Unexpectedly, she responds by shrugging off her leather jacket, for better movement I’m guessing. But damn me if it doesn’t distract me at all because she is indeed very, _very_ hot. Her plain halter top leaves her arms bare and I take back every descriptor of sweetness I previously gave her. Muscles ripple underneath her pale skin in dangerous cords, paler, shiny scars rope both her arms and tattoos creep down a bicep and a wrist.

I let out a low whistle and for the first time, she smirks.

“Like what you see?” She hums.

I smirk too. “Hell, yes.” Then I take a flying leap at her, making her roll backwards to kick me off, throwing us both right into the sloped pit.

I can hear Eren and Reiner sparring somewhere above but that is just background noise, my full and undivided attention is on _her_.

I start with a simple enough kick that she blocks with a simple enough flick of her wrist. And then we begin in earnest as if someone turned up the intensity with a switch. My strength has always been in my legs and so I am constantly moving about, spinning and lashing out with all my pent up strength. Daddy didn’t raise no ballerina, after all.

She, however, moves like one. She twirls and blocks and attacks all with the grace of a dancer, but there is no mistaking those iron muscles: every glance of her attack stings and the few times I manage to land an attack of my own I am met with steel-hard muscles. What the _fuck_ is she?

Time blurs even as the last vestiges of sunlight are gone; in the dim streetlight, I feel like we’re the only ones around for miles, just me and her and our occasional grunts and hisses as we dance around each other, trapped in our own violent little bubble.

It is _intoxicating_. As much as the movies would have you believe otherwise, fighting is no place to talk. You’re wasting energy, air that could be used to fuel your burning muscles. Talking is for wimps, something I can hear Eren and Reiner actively engaging in above us, growling and throwing insults like a pair of dogs.

I, however, engage in a different sort of communication altogether. A pointed smirk here, a brush of skin there. She and I have no personal beef (yet) and so I flirt with her the only way I know -overtly, wordlessly, in the middle of a fight. She shows no acknowledgement of these attentions, the most I get out of her is an irritated scoff when I happen to run my fingers through her silky hair as she spins away from one of my punches. I bare my teeth at her and wink, and narrowly avoid a flying kick of her own. Using my own moves against me, how rude.

And so, terribly immersed as we are in each other’s presence, neither of us notices the quiet at first. Then she freezes, and I take the opportunity to land a kick right in her gut that only makes her stagger back where others would have gone flying. I raise my eyebrows at her triumphantly -and then I freeze, too.

Footsteps, loud, assured ones from near the fence. I don’t hear the boys, possibly they’ve run off already, trusting us to follow, never imagining that we wouldn’t notice because why wouldn’t we? Mikasa glances at me with poignant concern -we both know what the footsteps mean.

 _Shit_.

Then Mikasa rushes me, slamming a shoulder hard into me until I am pinned against a near vertical slope.

“Hey what the fu-” I begin to hiss, but she cuts me off by jamming her mouth onto mine.

Every coherent thought crumbles away. Her entire body is pressed up against me and I can feel every curve, every jagged edge, every hard muscle. Her tongue attacks mine as if we haven’t stopped sparring at all, and her fingers dig into my ass and lift me until I am on my tiptoes.

 _Fuck_. My groan is involuntary as I fight back, one hand twisted painfully into her hair, another slipping under her shirt and scratching up her scarred back, my tongue circling hers. The footsteps stop somewhere above us but we don’t care, I _don’t fucking care,_ and when I lift one of my thighs to crook it on her hip, she groans, too.

“Hey, uh, ladies.” We take our time in disengaging, and for one intense moment her glimmering eyes are locked onto mine. Then we look up.

“Best take this indoors. You don’t want to be out here at this time of the day.”

“Thank you, officer.” Mikasa’s voice is calm, as if I hadn’t just felt her racing heartbeat under my own. We climb up effortlessly, and the officer’s concern dims a bit when he sees Mikasa’s ripped arms.

“We lost track of time, you know how it is,” I say slowly, trying to distract him as Mikasa walks over to her jacket.

“Yeah, uh, we had a report of some disturbance here?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “That was us. What can I say,” I whisper conspiratorially, “she’s a screamer.”

She hears me and raises an eyebrow. “Babe, behave,” she says lightly but I can see the daggers in her eyes, even in that light. I feel a shudder of want in my gut.

I manage to smile at the clearly uncomfortable man. “Right, sorry, Officer. We’ll be leaving now.” Mikasa curls her arm around my waist and drags me away. As we walk away her hand slips down to grab my ass again.

“Touchy, aren’t you?” I quip. She simply squeezes hard in response.

We last until the nearest dark alleyway in sight, then I yank her into it. This time it is her back against the wall and I practically climb onto her, mouth locked on hers, trying to get her jacket off her.

Her fingers dig into my scalp and pull backwards, suddenly stilling my frenzied movements.

“This changes nothing,” she says quietly, almost tenderly, “and if you lay a finger on Eren I will slit your throat.”

I smirk and lean forward to bite her lip, hard. As I lick the blood off my lips, she glares at me hungrily. My smirk widens. “Naturally.”

She crashes forward the next second and I meet her midway.

We continue to spar.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the sexiest thing I have ever written, hands down. I mean. Probably the only one, lol.
> 
> Mikasa x Annie is that ship in that textpost that’s “not in anyway possible in canon so screw canon”. I don’t ever see this happening, except in scenarios like this where their strength is attraction enough, like hot damn.
> 
> Also, yaye for platonic Eremika!
> 
> Hope you liked it and thanks for reading!


	15. Metalhead!Eren + Goth!Mikasa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[jungianca6 asked: Adsdadassa idk if you're ok with it, but how do you feel about Eren confessing to goth!Mikasa?]]
> 
> I am TOTES ok with it, and I am so, so sorry for such a delayed response! As I mentioned, I’ve had several WIPs and a new OTP and shitty worklife to balance, and unfortunately, I’ve had to put this on hold. Thanks so much for the ask, though!
> 
> Anyhow, here goes, Highschool AU Eremika being slightly OOC. Warning for swearing, because of course.

Eren Jaeger had a problem.

It was as important as it was difficult, and try as he might, no amount of analysing, planning, or worrying got him any closer to resolving it.

He trudged through the empty halls of his school, having stayed late to practise for his basketball team. He had been recruited as a junior and had quickly moved up the ranks of players, placing himself as one of the team’s favourites. His hard work had paid off, his way to college seemed brighter with more opportunities, his parents were proud. Still, his Very Important Problem persisted. And with his final year of school fast coming to a close, his problem got that much bigger and more important.

He waved a cheeky goodbye at the janitor, who simply grunted at him. Years ago, he had gotten the innocent janitor involved in a scandal of sorts, but they had moved past that. Now, the janitor had already given notice and was due to leave in two weeks, having formed a booming business of his cleaning products. Eren wished his life was as simple and as comfortable as that. No hard choices, no indeterminate future, no heartache.

He turned into the main corridor and froze suddenly, colour draining from his face.

“M-Mikasa?” He stammered.

She looked up from her book and stood up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he muttered, focusing on the tiled floor; the blood was rushing back into his cheeks and he didn’t want her to see. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Thursday,” she reminded him, stuffing her book in her bag and matching her pace with his.

Eren still didn’t look up. “Yeah, but you said you were busy.”

“Well, now I’m not.”

Something in her voice made him look at her. She was one of his oldest friends, and so he wasn’t surprised to see a small frown line between her eyebrows -a sure sign that she was upset.

“What happened?” When she didn’t answer, he said jokingly, “Do I have beat someone up for you?”

She didn’t smile. “I can handle it.”

Mikasa never had been a cheerful sort. An early tragedy had transformed her into a stoic girl. She was her most emotional around Eren and their other best friend, Armin, but even then, she had mostly been quiet and unassuming, until she her fourteenth birthday, when she discovered goth literature. It had appealed to her dark and melodramatic sides and for the first time in years, was unapologetically evocative about her interests.

Her black lips were now pursed in a thin line, her throat bobbing beneath her antichrist choker as she swallowed whatever she meant to say.

“Gonna cast a curse or something?” He asked, continuing in his joking vein when she stopped abruptly.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“What?” He yelped. “No, of course not! Why would I… Miks I would never-”

She huffed and began to walk again. “Come on. We’re lagging behind in history.”

He rushed to catch up with her. “Hey, look. Stop. What’s wrong?”

“It’s not important, Eren.”

“Of course it is.”

She glared at him, and he glared back.  Moments like this had become rare, moments where they were just best friends together and Eren’s all-consuming crush didn’t dampen the mood.

“You tell me everything,” he said quietly.

“Unlike you,” she snapped, and Eren stumbled. “What?”

She jabbed a black fingernail in his chest. “You heard me. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“What? N-no, I-”

“ _Everyone_ is avoiding me. Armin’s busy studying. The lacrosse finals are over and no one wants to talk. Eric-” her voice faltered, “Eric stands me up. And the only time you bother to even acknowledge me is when we have to do our study sessions!”

Eren’s heart was thudding. “I don't…” He couldn’t deny it, he really couldn’t, not to her. Then he latched onto one part of her rant. “Eric stood you up?”

She waved her hands in a frustrated gesture and began to walk away again. Eren reached forward and grabbed her hand. “Wait a sec-”

He should have seen it coming. But Mikasa moved at the speed of light, and he was flipped on his back and on the floor with her knee on his chest before he knew what was happening. “Don’t touch me,” she growled and eased up.

He stood up shakily. “Mikasa, look, I’m sorry…” He stopped, aghast, when he realised that her arms were not crossed on her chest in anger and that a lone tear was coursing down her cheek.

“You don’t even…” She whispered, then cleared her throat and continued more strongly, “Look, I don’t care about the team. They’re not my friends. And Eric -can go fuck himself, I mean he’s hipster trash anyway. But you, you’re my best friend.” She blinked and another tear slipped down. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

His hands were shaking. “Mikasa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Is it all this?” She waved a vague hand over her outfit, a black lacy top with a long, heavy black skirt and heavy black leather boots. “Does this annoy you? Because I can tone down on the Anne Rice and Twilight was a mistake and I’ll stop ranting about Mary Shelley and Carmilla-”

“Miks.”

“I’ll even listen to Deep Purple, I’ve heard they’re good-”

“Mikasa.”

“And I was lying, I _do_ like Metallica-”

“I love it.” Eren interrupted loudly, stopping her. “I love all of it, I love that you think Mary Shelley invented science fiction, because of _course_ she did, I love that you love gay and lesbian vampires because of _course_ they are, and I love that you wear black all the time ‘cause you look fucking amazing and I love… I love-” He paused abruptly, taking in the shocked glimmer of her wide grey eyes. Then he thought _fuck it_ , and went on, “I love everything you do and everything about you and I love- you. A lot. A whole fucking lot. And hate that I do now because school is done and we’re gonna be adults and shit and we’ll probably say goodbye soon and- I’m sorry,” he finished anti-climatically.

Her eyes were wider than he had ever seen them.

“You… love… me?” She whispered.

“A whole fucking lot,” he repeated, his eyes trained on the ground again.

“And you didn’t want to tell me because we're going to leave soon?”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean,” Eren groaned with frustration and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think you’d want that. Me. Not right now.”

“But you didn’t think to ask me? You didn’t think I’d want to know?” Her voice was dangerously calm, and when he glanced up at her, she was frowning ominously. He looked away quickly, and when she spoke again, her voice was harsher.

“Because why would _I_ care? Of course I’m shallow enough to think end of school is end of _everything_ , and my type is some pale, constipated, _imaginary_ immortal being, right? You didn’t think I might love you too, you _idiot_?”

Time froze. Everything froze, including Eren’s heart in his chest and his breath in his lungs. Only Mikasa remained moving and alive, vibrant in her monotone, eyes radiating warm fury. “For weeks I’ve been silent, for _weeks_ you’ve made me think something was wrong with _me_ , that I’ve done something wrong, driven people away-”

He clasped her face in his hands and kissed her. Slowly, gently, for a long, thundering moment, and then stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he told her firmly. “You’re right, I am an idiot. A colossal idiot.” He paused, his hand gently nudging her slack one. “Now you see why I didn’t think you’d want me?”

She snorted delicately, her face still deadpan. “Idiot,” she murmured again.

They were silent for a long moment. Then Eren, always the intrepid one, asked quietly, “So you really…?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. She blinked at him, her face still serious. “If we have to say goodbye, will it matter to you?”

“Not if it doesn’t to you.”

“I already said it doesn’t.”

“Then it doesn’t matter to me,” he said softly, taking her hand, feeling his face burn when she didn’t pull it away. Instead, she laced her fingers through his, and, always the stronger one, pulled him closer.

It was several minutes later, when they were walking home hand in hand, when Mikasa said quietly, “I really do like Metallica. Linkin Park, too.”

Eren squeezed her hand. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Hmm?”

“I _really_ like Evanescence.”

Her face brightened and she gasped. “I knew it! You coward!”

Laughing, he pulled her in for another quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Me too,” she smiled affectionately. “Idiot.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Is this what goth kids are into these days? I am so out of touch, I’m dreadfully sorry if goth!Mikasa should be different. Also, teenage angst is the best angst and super fun to write! (Teenage me is flipping me off rn.)


	16. Words (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: One word is never enough to describe Mikasa. Eren thinks he knows just the one.
> 
> Manga spoilers

There are many words for her, Eren eventually discovers. In turn she is called _scary, deadly, dangerous_. She zips through the air faster than a bird and they call her a _beast_. She slices through the fake napes of fake Titans right down to their fake wooden bones and they call her a _monster_. She throws people twice her size across the training field and they call her _inhuman_.

Other words, other whispers follow her when she isn't training. _Quiet_ is the mildest of them all. _Stoic, cold_ , and _emotionless_ follow quickly after. _Sulky_ says an apathetic Ymir at least once a day. _Boring_ says an immature Sasha at least once a week. _Pretty_ says a shallow Jean on their very first day and never again.

Between the three of them, he and Armin have their own words for her. _Annoying_ is something Eren spits out when he is frustrated, _stubborn_ is what Armin sighs about when she forces more food on his plate. A _worrier_ is what they tell each other when she holds them, impossibly gentle in her impossibly strong limbs.

But in the depths of his mind, when he lets himself dwell on them, Eren has his own words for her. _Strong_ is what he thinks when he remembers her struggling to stand with cracked ribs. _Brave_ is what he calls her when thinks of her standing between him and an armed battalion. _Loyal_ is present in every memory of her fighting for Armin. _Kind_ is her face when she watches Historia’s orphans play. _Considerate_ is her tired form hovering at his bedside for years now. _Tender_ is every glimpse, every flash of red around her neck, the faded scarf somehow making her image more vibrant. _Lovely_ is the small smile on her face when his mother used to praise her, and _beautiful_ is reserved for those moments when she flies, glorious and unstoppable, through blood and gore, through wind and fire, through every obstacle fate has been throwing at her all her life.

Eren has many, many words for Mikasa, and he hopes that someday, he will be able to tell her all of them. For now, there is only one word that really matters, one word that he's sure she already knows, without him having to tell it to her at all.

He stands, frozen and horrified, until she places her warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes meet hers, grey and sparkling, and tired and soft. His breath catches.

 _Home_ , he thinks, and she nods like she's heard him.

“Let's go,” she says, and together, they make their way down to the basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is canon, btw. At some point in the return to Shiganshina arc, Eren swears that he will come back, that he will have a home again. He looks at Mikasa when he thinks this.
> 
> So romantic or not, Eremika is canon, folks. You can take this little drabble either way. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	17. Witch (Levi x Erwin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a spontaneous reblog on tumblr, based on a beautiful artwork made by babushkahihi which you can find [here](https://babushkahihi.tumblr.com/post/172529791333/only-death-only-love-levi-would-certainly-have).

“ _Witch_ ,” they whispered. “ _Freak_.”

The whispers had followed him all his life. At first they were directed at his mother. Then, his uncle, though the whispers were hidden, more fearful, more insidious. They continued when he grew up, in his mother’s image, following in her footsteps, doing everything she would have done in his place.

“ _Witch_ ,” the Mourners whispered. “ _Freak_ ,” said the Mourners, looking appalled when he turned up in his red coat.

“Have you no shame?” A woman demanded as the funeral came to a close. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

His friends, so few and so close to his heart, held the loud naysayers at bay. They schooled them, admonished them, reminded them of everything he had done, everything he had offered on a platter over the years.

Levi couldn’t care less. He didn’t care, he  _didn’t care_ , he didn’t care about anything anymore, except for the bones locked away in the earth ten feet beneath his feet. Nothing mattered save for the bones that were beginning to crumble in their lonely tomb.

He waited three days and three nights. “Three is a magical number, Levi,” his mother had whispered to him, tucking his charm under his shirt. “The perfect number for the most perfect magic.”

He packed his things, spoke to his friends, settled his affairs. He spoke to the boy whom he had chosen to save, the boy who was now burdened with the responsibility that Levi had thrust upon him. He told him that he would have done it again. He would have chosen the boy again, chosen him for the hell that no love of his ever deserved. The boy seemed to understand, and that was another loose string tied up.

He returned to the grave in the darkest part of the night, dragging with him his humble cauldron, his meagre ingredients, his powerful spellbook. He set about creating the most potent spell of his life, poured everything he had into it, until he resembled the bones he had brought to rest. He spent his shuddering breath in speaking words that were never to be spoken, words cloaked in his own lifeblood, his own essence, everything that was  _him_.

“ _Witch_ ,” the Voice purred. “ _Are you certain? Every blight that you would reverse will smite you threefold. Every drop of his blood that was shed will be yours tripled_.”

“I am certain,” he rasped through his sandpaper mouth.

There was silence then, and he was afraid, so afraid that he made a mistake, so frightened that the one spell that mattered was the one spell he messed up.

Then, the cold white jaw under his fingers moved. Muscle, tendon and blood weaved themselves around the bones he sat with, skin stretched across a body whole and new and unmarred.

The blue of his eyes are brighter than the sky, the curve of his lips more devastating than any mythical siren.

“Levi,” he whispers, and Levi is crying, the tears are pouring out of his eyes, his ears, his very skin.

“Erwin,” he breathes, every inch of his insides burning, but he doesn’t care, he  _doesn’t care_. “Welcome back.”


	18. Stranger (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been meaning to write Eremika for ages, but the chapters right now have left me so depressed. Every time I try to think of these two, my heart hurts. :(
> 
> So, here’s some angsty canon from me, in an attempt to drag you all down into my pit of despair sorrynotsorry.

This is too familiar. Ever since she was nine years old -the first time her world came crashing down around her- Mikasa has craved stability. She cherishes habits, revels in shared memories, keeps track of scars. She likes repetition, daily schedules, humdrum chores, anything that makes her feel less untethered. **  
**

But standing here, watching the iron bars slide shut for the god knows how many-eth time, Mikasa feels more lost than she has in years. She wishes she had at least Armin for moral support, but he is missing, avoiding everyone's company. She can guess where he is, but doesn't bother interrupting him this time. Not when Eren is right in front of her, closer than he has been in months, farther than he has ever been.

The soldiers that lock him up leave them both alone. No one else has come down to see him. No one else would have a reason to be here right now.

Eren sits down on his cot, staring at his hands. The silence stretches on: heavy, cold, stifling.

It is Eren who finally breaks it. “Well?” When she doesn't respond, he continues, “Aren't you going to say anything?”

Mikasa wishes she knew what to say. That's the reason she's here, after all, to talk to him. But now that she's here, she is speechless. Numb.

They are silent again, for how long, Mikasa cannot tell. Eventually Eren stirs. “I'm going to rest now. Are you going to watch me sleep?”

His voice is familiar, but his tone is not. For her, Eren has always radiated warmth, from the fire in his eyes, to the passion in his heart. But nothing about the ragged man in front of her suggests warmth of any sort.

“It's nothing I haven't done before,” she says at length, just for the sake of saying something.

Eren snorts at that, without any real humour.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, and fluffs up his ragged pillow.

She steps forward and stops. Still too far, still too close. Mikasa doesn't know what to do. She wants to hug him, punch him, kiss him, yell at him, fall to his feet, bring him to his knees. But she does none of those things.

“The funeral will be in the morning,” she blurts.

His hands still. “I assume I'm not invited.”

Mikasa swallows the lump in her throat. “Probably not.”

He shrugs and reaches for the pillow again. “Is that all?”

 _No, that is not all_. She watches him, speechless again, the blade in her heart twisting deeper and deeper. He still hasn't looked at her and now he turns away, smoothing down the covers, flicking away invisible specks of dust, doing everything to ignore her.

 _Who are you_? She wants to ask him, but a sudden gust of wind from the window distracts her. The subtle shudder that rolls down his back decides her next words for her.

“Are you cold?”

This time he doesn't answer her, but it doesn't matter. She steps forward until her toes touch the iron bars, and she slips her hand through the bars. “Here.”

Now he has to look at her and he does: his eyes are bloodshot and his sunken cheeks attest to his months spent in a ghetto. He stares at the scarf in her hand and his expression turns shocked, his green eyes like glass.

When he doesn't respond at all, she waves her hand slightly. “Take it, Eren.”

He stands up and walks to the bars until he is inches away from her. “Are you returning it to me?”

Mikasa squeezes the scarf reflexively, then loosens her grip. “You need it more than I do.”

At that finally,  _finally_ , he looks at her. His gaze is clinical, like he is evaluating her. She meets his stare, waiting.

Slowly, he reaches for the scarf, and Mikasa lets it go, her chest throbbing with pain and grief. He grabs it, but before she can step away, he steps closer to the bars and slips his own hands through them.

Time seems to come to a standstill when she feels the warmth on her collar. She is frozen, unable to move a muscle as Eren wraps the scarf around her neck. His hands linger for an agonising moment, until he brings them back to his sides. His beautiful eyes, though, still hold hers in their gaze.

“I haven't needed it in years,” he tells her quietly. His eyes are glimmering now, with an emotion so familiar Mikasa wants to scream.

She  _knows_ this Eren.

Then he blinks and steps back, and the distance between them seems like a yawning chasm once more. “Get some rest, Mikasa,” he sighs, and the exhaustion is finally apparent in his voice.

She recognises the dismissal. In the past she wouldn't have cared, in the past she would have ignored him and hovered by his side anyway.

But she has a funeral to go to in the morning.

“See you later, Eren,” she mumbles sadly and turns away. The stricken look on his face follows her all the way to her quarters and, eventually, into her nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, the ‘stricken look’ in the end is a reference to chapter 1 of the manga. Big props to you if you get the reference!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and actually, yes, sorry for the feels. :(


	19. The Eve (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jungianca6 asked: [Oh ok haha thanks for letting me know... so umm what about an eren-mikasa talk before the expedition to shiganshina? The ema talk in the last ep ws beautiful but it'd be amazing if both had a talk (and maybe leading that to a confession)]
> 
> I LOVE THIS ASK!! Seriously, this is probably the last cute EMA scene we get, because everything goes to shit after RtS and why is the manga so cruel rn and I’m so glad the season is split cour I AM NOT READY
> 
> Annyway, here’s my really emotional, probably OOC take on how that conversation continued.
> 
> Thank you so much for this! I really really enjoyed writing it!
> 
> 1390 words

* * *

 

The stars are shining brighter, the city lights of Trost getting weaker, and Armin's voice gets softer as he trails away from describing a poisonous sea. Eren can feel Mikasa squirm slightly next to him, inching _just so_ closer for the warmth of their huddle. It makes Eren want to smile. Mikasa has always craved warmth, always burrowing and nudging into any bit of warmth she could find.

“Anyway,” Armin yawns, his smile soft, “we should go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

Eren glances up at the stars again and thinks of the barracks, of the cold beds, of the empty, excited looks on Marlow and Floch’s faces…

“Let's stay,” Eren mumbles. “Just a little while longer.”

Mikasa doesn't say anything, and Armin simply slumps back, sighing softly. “Okay.”

They don't speak after that, but that's exactly what Eren wanted. The quiet, the peace, the warmth of his friends -his family…

A soft grunt interrupts his thoughts and he realises Armin has slumped onto him, his fluffy blond head resting on his arm.

“Wow, that was quick,” Eren chuckles, looking down at Armin.

Mikasa stirs and peeks her head around his shoulder. “He's always been like that,” Mikasa says, and Eren's grin widens at the fondness of her tone.

“Yeah. Lucky bastard.”

“Used to be you before,” Mikasa murmurs. “Remember? You could fall asleep in a crowd.”

“Hey, that was _one time_ ,” Eren argues, and Mikasa looks away with a slight roll of her eyes. “That was one time with _me_.”

“Ugh, my mom told you everything,” Eren pouts.

“She did,” Mikasa agrees, and the warmth blooming in Eren's chest fizzles out.

They are quiet again, companionable, but not happy anymore. At some point, he feels Mikasa shudder a little, and he looks at her.

“Feeling cold?”

“No.” Mikasa pulls her ever-present scarf up her chin.

Eren sighs. “We can head inside if you're cold, Mika-”

“I'm fine.” She shifts a little. “I want to stay. It's… nice.” She glances at him and Armin, a flash of steel grey. “It's been a while.”

Eren looks away and leans back on his palms. “Yeah.” He thinks back on the evening. “You know, Connie was saying back then how it's only been four months since…”

As much as he tries, he can't seem to finish that sentence, but Mikasa gets him, like she always does. “Yeah. Instructor Shadis said it too.”

Silence once more. Eren's mind flashes back to their meeting with Shadis again, and then his thoughts return to the story -his father's life, his mother's words…

“Eren.” Mikasa's voice is suddenly firm.

He twitches guiltily and turns to her. “Mm?”

“What the instructor said that day. About -about being special…”

“It's fine, Mikasa.” Eren searches for the lightness in his chest, and is able to give her an honest smile. “I've made my peace with it. It's fine, I know I'm not special, because I don't _have_ to be.

Mikasa is shaking her head before he can finish speaking. “No. That's not it. Eren, don't you get it-”

“Mikasa, it's _fine_ ,” Eren cuts in, feeling a familiar flare of irritation.

 

“ _No_.” Her voice is much louder, and they both glance quickly at Armin, making sure he's still asleep before their eyes lock onto the others’ once more. “That is _not_ what your mother said.”

“She said I don't have to be special,” Eren says, trying hard not to grit his teeth, trying so hard to curb his temper because he doesn't _want_ to yell at her, he never has. Instead, he tries to focus on keeping his chest clear of strong emotions. “That's what she said, she said I didn't need to be special-”

He doesn't realise he's leaned forward, waving his hand to emphasise his point, until Mikasa grabs it, her cool palms feeling soothing on his heated and bruised knuckles.

“She said it didn't matter,” Mikasa tells him, eyes glimmering in the starlight. “She said it didn't matter, because you already were.” Her grasp tightens on his hand. “You _are_ special, Eren. Everyone is, to someone. You are special to the Survey Corps, to Commander Erwin, to the people, to Armin, and -to me.” She blinks and looks away. “You are special to me.”

Eren is staring at her, frozen. He thinks of everything they have been through since the day Wall Maria. He thinks of the three of them toiling in the fields, slogging through Training Corps. He thinks of the original Levi Squad, of Annie's crying face in her crystal prison. He thinks of Reiner's grimace, of Bertholdt's heartfelt shouts. Historia's face in the cabin. Squad Leader Hange with the Titan guillotine. Captain Levi in the cavern, asking him to make a choice again. Mr. Hannes laughing in the field where he would die. Thomas grinning on the rooftop, Marco smiling in the barracks at camp. Armin's grandfather giving them one last wave before leaving on the Reclamation Expedition. Armin, beaming as he showed him his forbidden book of wondrous things in the outside world. His mother smirking as she pinched his ear.

And he thinks of one rainy evening in the woods, standing outside a house with murdered men inside, and a scared, cold, lonely little girl standing shivering in front of him, blood clotting on her lip, squirming into his father's heavy coat. He thinks of her small, cool hand in hers, and he looks at her now, feels the coolness of her calloused palms now, sees the shimmering grey of her eyes now -and realisation hits him like lightning.

It's not _lightness_. It's _empty_ , his chest has been empty for weeks, his heart numb from what he thought he understood from Instructor Shadis’ tale. But Mikasa's flint eyes have lit a spark in his chest, and he now feels like he is on _fire_.

“You are special to _me_. And that's enough.” Mikasa repeats. Her hands squeeze tight. “Right?”

Eren lets out a deep breath, his ears buzzing with the sudden warmth. “Yeah.” His other hand comes up automatically and he places it on top of hers. “It's enough.”

The corner of her mouth twitches upwards, the closest thing to a smile he has seen on her face in months.

“If you guys want to be left alone…” A small voice pipes up behind Eren, and he turns around to see that Armin is awake, sleepy-eyed but smirking.

“Shut up,” Eren grins, elbowing him in the side. “Let's all go to bed, come on.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Armin chuckles, standing up with him. “I just want to know,” he glances behind Eren, “aren't _I_ special to you, Mikasa?”

“A cheeky nerd like you?” Mikasa quips.

“Hey!”

Eren is still sniggering as they make their way to the barracks, exchanging sarcastic remarks. It has been a good day. It felt _normal_. Like with Sasha and the meat, and horse-face and his big words…

“Good night,” Mikasa nods as she walks past the entrance of the men's quarters. Armin waves at her tiredly and turns away, but Eren is suddenly rooted to the spot for a moment, until he bolts after her and grabs the end of her scarf that's hanging on her back. She swirls around immediately. “Eren?”

“Before, when we saw that guy… that man who looked like Mr. Hannes,” he begins without preamble.

Recognition sparks in her eyes and her mouth is a grim line again. “Yes.”

“You asked if we would get those days back.”

She looks down, dark eyelashes fluttering. “I did.”

“I told you it won't be the same. That we'll have to make the people who took them away from us pay.” Eren takes a step forward until she is forced to look at his face once more. “It's true what I said. The war won't be over when we reach Shiganshina. There's that to do, and then there's…” He huffs, and scratches the back of his head. “Then there's Armin's thing. Exploring the outside world. But.”

Mikasa is staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Eren tugs gently at her scarf. “But then, after everything is over, Mikasa…” He smiles at her. “We're going home.”

Her eyes close and she _smiles_ , a proper smile wider than anything that evening.

“Good,” she whispers.

And Eren smiles too, warmer than any of his other smiles that evening.

“Good,” he agrees.


	20. Stressed Out (Eren x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Anon asked: Request: EreMika; Eren as a med student/doctor and Mikasa running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test; the stress proving too much for Mikasa's heart, resulting in a massive heart attack and Eren must revive her]

_ Ugh, what a shitty day. _ Mikasa tapped her foot on the aggressively clean floor, sulky and impatient.  _ I  _ _never_ _ faint. _

“This is a waste of time,” she muttered, not for the first time. Her cousin looked away from his phone, and his scowl somehow deepened.

“You really don't want me to agree with you,” he snapped, “unless you want your mother here instead of me.”

She frowned right back at him. “We had a deal.”

He sniffed and turned back to his phone. “Not really a blood pact, was it? I could still call your Mom right now.”

“You do that and I'll tell her about your _boyfriend_.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” was all he had to say to that and he stood up to fetch himself more coffee. Mikasa watched him leave, her frustration increasing. Coming to the hospital was pointless, she was sure. She  _ knew  _ she was fine, she could feel it in herself. She had only fainted at the gym because she hadn't eaten anything all day, but her stupid cousin  _ had _ to get all protective and responsible and drag her here.

The nurse poked her head into the waiting room. “Mikasa?” She said, smiling sweetly. “We're ready for you.”

Mikasa put away her phone and looked for Levi, who, of course,  _ had _ to go away at that exact moment. With an irritated shrug, she gathered her things and followed the nurse.

A treadmill hooked up to an EKG machine awaited her. Thinking wryly that this wasn't so different from the gym, she put aside her bag and jacket and stepped on the treadmill.

“Dr. Jaeger will be with you in a minute,” chirped the nurse in parting, and left her alone in the room. Mikasa sighed again when she left, tapping her foot impatiently.

She was looking at her phone, wondering if she should call Levi, when the door opened.

“Thanks for waiting, Miss Ack-uhhh.”

Mikasa turned to the doctor, who had frozen in the doorway. Her first thought was ‘ _ he’s so young’,  _ followed by an immediate ‘ _ wow he's cute _ ’.

“Ackerman,” she murmured, feeling a soft flutter in her chest.

The young doctor gaped at her. “Huh?”

“My name,” Mikasa explained.

“Right. Sorry. Miss Ackerman. Hi. Thanks for coming. I mean, I hope everything's alright.”

“Yeah. Um, I hope so too,” she said shyly, cursing internally that she didn't have Annie's guts or Sasha's confidence.

“Right. So, I'll just… hook these up.” He held up wires connected to sticky pads and glanced at her, and she felt a small jolt of excitement when she realised he looked  _ nervous _ .

“You'll,” he cleared his throat and gestured at her. “You'll have to lift your shirt.”

She had on a tank top inside. Still, she could not help the slight blush when she did as told.

The doctor -  _ Dr. Jaeger _ , she reminded herself - froze again.

“Wow, you're beautiful,” he blurted, then gasped, “Built! I meant built!”

“I work out,” she said, trying to be nonchalant, holding back her smile and then the shudders when she felt the cool surface of the sticky pads below her collarbone.

He stepped away rather quickly when he was done. “Well, your base heartrate is a little high,” he said, watching the monitor, “but it's nothing to worry about, I'm sure.”

Mikasa nodded; she wasn't surprised at the heartrate at all.

“Just start with a gentle walk and slowly move faster,” he advised her, and Mikasa began to move her feet. They were silent for a minute or two until he spoke.

“So,” he cleared his throat again. “What do you do? To work out, I mean,” he added, and then grinned, waving at her toned midriff. “Clearly it's pretty intense.”

Mikasa almost stumbled when she saw how  _ adorable _ he looked smiling. She could tell he was trying to smooth over the first few awkward moments and hastened to play along. “Started with muay thai but I'm mostly into capoeira now.”

“No way,” he said, raising a thick brown eyebrow. Mikasa had to turn away from his sparkling green eyes, they were too unfairly pretty. “I do muay thai, too!”

Mikasa's eyes shifted back to him. “Really?”

“Yeah! I go to this gym called Scouts -you know it? Some pretty good instructors there.”

“I'm - I'm an instructor there,” she admitted, excitement jolting in her once more.

Those beautiful green eyes widened. “No way!” He gasped again, leaning against the side rail of the treadmill. “What do you teach?”

“Capoeira,” she mumbled, her nervousness increasing and footsteps quickening when she noticed him lean closer to her.

“Probably why I haven't seen you there,” he said, ruffling the back of his head ruefully. “Plus, since I started my residency I haven't been able to go as often as I'd like.”

“You must be very busy,” she nodded. Her voice was starting to get breathy but she didn't notice.

“Oh, you have  _ no  _ idea,” he snorted grimly. “God, it sounded amazing and all, wanting to be a doctor, but the amount of  _ work _ involved is just…”

“Overwhelming?” She finished for him.

“To put it mildly,” he agreed. “When I get back home the last thing I want to do is stay on my feet.” His mouth twisted in a pout, and Mikasa had to fight the urge to reach over and do something stupid -like patting his unruly hair into place, or poking his frown until it turned into a smile once more. To curb this embarrassing urge, she increased her pace on the treadmill even more.

“I mean, I  _ like _ muay thai,” Dr. Jaeger continued conversationally. “Been doing it for years. And I've had great instructors too, since I joined Scouts, but now I hate that I can't make the time for it, you know?”

Mikasa nodded, pursing her lips tight to avoid wheezing. She was already jogging now, and the treadmill's incline had increased, but she didn't want to burst this little bubble of conversation that they had found themselves in, just the two of them.

So she took in a few quick shallow breaths to make sure her voice didn't tremble when she asked, “So who's your trainer?”

His face brightened. “Oh yeah, you probably know them! I started with Annie, and she's… you know.  _ Kickass _ , literally.” He grinned and Mikasa nodded, muffling the jealous twist in her chest. “But I wanted much more of a challenge, so I-”

A sudden memory hit Mikasa at that moment - Annie's smirking face, her voice slightly more animated than usual, “There’s this guy in my class. Wants more than he can handle, the idiot. I tried to get him to change his mind, but he's gone and-”

“-got myself transferred to Levi's class.” He finished blithely.

Weeks and months of her cousin's griping suddenly crashed into her conscious mind, and Mikasa froze so suddenly the belt carried her a few inches back.

“ _ You're  _ the medical brat?” She gasped, a bead of sweat trickling onto her eye.

A frown appeared on his face, deeper than before. “Yeah -how do you know-”

Somehow, her brain had filed away the rare instance of his actual name being mentioned in the numerous rants she had witnessed.

“You're Eren.” She whispered, and right at that moment, her legs gave way and her world turned black.

She came to what felt like moments later, her lips tingling and shouts pounding in her ears.

“-the  _ fuck _ did you do to her, you  _ fucking  _ idiot?!”

“She -she collapsed, I -I didn't-”

“The fuck kind of doctor do you call yourself-”

She had never heard Levi shout like this before. Blinking blearily, she lifted her woozy head to see Levi red with rage, screaming down a very upset-looking Eren, the kind nurse from before trying tearfully, and failing, to calm him down.

“Levi…” Mikasa groaned, and his shouts cut off abruptly. She blinked again, and Levi was already kneeling on the floor next to her.

“What happened?” He asked, his thin brows twisted in concern.

She tried to sit up, shaking her head slowly. “I'm fine…”

“The hell you are.” He sounded angry again and shot a furious glare at Eren, who stood with his back to the wall, his face pale, his anxious eyes fixed on her face.

“It was just a BP drop!” Eren managed to yelp, but was quickly overruled.

“Aren't you supposed to watch for that shit in a stress test?” Levi demanded, and Eren somehow turned more pale, even as Levi's face turned red once more. “I'm gonna sue you  _ and _ this hospital, you fucking brat-”

“ _ Levi _ ,” Mikasa said, her voice firmer than before.

“This is gross incompetence-” Levi argued.

“Just, stop,  _ please _ . My head is pounding.”

That seemed to work, and everyone shut up instantly. The nurse hurried forward to help Mikasa to the bed, and Levi snapped at her to get a  _ real  _ doctor right away. Mikasa avoided Eren's gaze as he slunk away from the room.

Her cousin didn't calm down until his friend came down personally to check on her. Dr. Zoë was the reason they had come to this hospital in the first place, and Levi vented to her some more about how her new intern had jeopardised Mikasa's life. Dr. Zoë absorbed it all with a sort of cheerful poise that left Mikasa in awe. Very few people could handle an angry Levi, after all.

“-and of all the things, the fuckin’ idiot is trying to give her  _ CPR _ , as if that's what she needed-”

Mikasa's heart gave a treacherous lurch. Is that why her lips felt… strange?

Dr. Zoë was smirking. “CPR, you say?” Mikasa glanced away, embarrassed.

“Yeah, didn't you hear me?” Levi snapped. “Anyway-”

“Levi, hun, we all think it's sweet how much you care for your baby cousin, but you really need to chill, right now.” Dr. Zoë put away her stethoscope, and Mikasa stared at her once more.

“You want me to  _ chill _ .” Levi grit out.

“She's  _ fine _ ,” Dr. Zoë said airily and turned to her. “Maybe a bit of a diet change for your blood pressure, and ease up on the cardio for a few days, hmm?” Mikasa nodded dazedly. “Of course, if you still feel faint or get chest pains or anything, come see me right away, okay?”

Mikasa nodded again. Dr. Zoë turned back to her cousin and said grandly, “But I should prescribe  _ you _ some pills, Mr. Boiling Kettle.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No dear,  _ you _ get out of my hospital, now. My work here is done.” She scribbled something onto Mikasa's patient form and nodded brightly at them both. “See you on leg day!” She beamed and walked away.

“ _ Everyday _ is leg day, shitty glasses!” Levi called out, and Dr. Zoë left with a booming laugh and a wave.

There was a split second of silence. Then Mikasa sighed, “Let's go home.”

But before he could respond, there was a soft knock on the door, and Eren slipped into the consultation room.

“Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry,” Eren said hurriedly, and when Levi didn't interrupt him, he continued, “I'm  _ really  _ sorry for -for not taking care of your…” He hesitated. “Niece?”

“She's my sister, you incompetent loon,” Levi barked. “How old do you think I am?”

“Cousin,” Mikasa clarified with a half-smile.

“Right. Sorry. I'm sorry, really.”

Mikasa shook her head. “Wasn't your fault.”

Levi looked close to murderous again, so she reminded him of the paperwork and medicines he needed to get sorted before they could go. Almost reluctantly, Levi agreed and left, pointedly ignoring Eren.

Leaving them both alone together, once more.

“What did Dr. Zoë say?” Eren asked softly, and Mikasa told him.

“That's good,” he sighed. He took a hesitant step or two forward. “I really am sorry.  _ Really _ .”

Mikasa shook her head hurriedly. “It wasn't your fault.” His eyes were still so wide with remorse, that she threw caution to the winds and ducked her head and muttered, “I only blame you partially -indirectly.” A quick glance at his face. “You made me nervous.”

She heard the deep intake of his breath, saw his feet shuffle forward. “ _ I  _ made  _ you _ nervous?”

She risked a glance at him, and felt the flutter in her chest again when she saw how his wide eyes were practically  _ shimmering. _

He stood right in front of her now, and placed his hand right next to hers on the cot. “Um. Wow.”

“Yeah,” Mikasa murmured, lips twitching into a smile. “Did you really try CPR on me?”

His dark cheeks flushed beautifully. “I panicked,” he admitted, his fingers twining between hers.

“You were stressed,” Mikasa said softly, moving her own fingers until they were holding hands.

Eren let out a bark of laughter at that. “Yeah thanks for that, by the way.”

“Anytime,” she grinned back at him, squeezing his hand.

They stared intently at each other for a long moment, before Eren let out a rueful chuckle. “Oh  _ god _ , Levi's gonna murder me in class.”

“He won't,” she assured him confidently. “I can handle him.”

“I believe you,” Eren muttered admiringly. “Maybe I should just change classes or something.”

“Maybe you should try capoeira.”

His grin widened. “Maybe I should.”

“Whenever you're finished,” came a sulky interruption from the door. Mikasa simply rolled her eyes and slipped off the cot, feeling suddenly bereft when Eren jerked his hand away. Pointedly ignoring her cousin, she smiled, “See you later, Eren,” and placed a quick kiss on his warm cheek.

His stunned face made her smile wider, and he managed a loud “Bye, Mikasa!” just as they left the room.

Levi was ominously quiet as they made their way to the lobby and out the front doors. He only spoke when they reached the car.

“If I catch the two of you up to some stupid shit in the gym…”

“Then you'll do exactly as I did when I caught  _ you _ .” Mikasa said calmly, slipping into her seat. “Right?”

“Tch.” Levi put on his seatbelt with a vicious click, his ears reddening. “Fucking brat.”

Mikasa simply smirked and looked out the window, feeling like a balloon of joy had expanded in her chest. For the first time ever, she understood why fictional characters sometimes randomly burst into song. She  _ got  _ it.

Levi reversed the car smoothly from their parking spot, then glanced at her.

“Ice cream?”

“Hell, yes!” Mikasa laughed, and  _ finally _ , for the first time that day, Levi smirked.

_ All in all, an excellent day _ , Mikasa mused happily.  _ 10/10, would faint again _ .


	21. Burn (Jean x Mikasa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Anonymous asked: Jeankasa please ! But with Eren realizing he was indeed in love with her and is really really salty and jealous 😅 Thanks u !]]
> 
> Hii anon! Thank you so much for sending this amazing request in, and sorry for taking so long! Going from the emoji, I think you probably had a fun, teenage rivalry thing in mind?? Tell that to my f-ed up brain because what it came up with is a canonverse angst fest, I’M SO SORRY

He’s so used to the steam by now he barely feels it. It’s not even like actual steam, which leaves skin and clothing moist even after it’s gone. Though he supposes it would be nice to have damp clothes for once. The sun is unforgiving in the summer.

He makes his way up the rocky shore, where two people wait for him. This time it’s Jean’s turn, who waits for him patiently. Eren thinks back to their stupid arguments when they were in training. They seem so mundane and faraway now, even though it’s been just about a year since they graduated.

Jean reaches forward to help him over the last rock, but Mikasa, as always, gets there first. As he grabs her hand, Eren observes her closely. Her cheeks have filled out, and she looks stronger, like the Mikasa of old. The thought makes him smile. “Thanks, Mikasa.”

Mikasa gives him a rare smile back, and the three of them make their way back to camp together.

“How many this time?” Eren asks.

“Twenty three, I think.” Jean says. “They were still rounding them up.”

“Let’s hope this lot isn’t as difficult as the last one.” Eren remarks.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to use your Titan form next time,” Mikasa mutters.

“I don’t mind,” Eren starts, but Jean says, his tone more soothing, “Well, Yelena and Onyankopon are getting better at convincing them. Maybe it’ll work next time.”

To his surprise, Mikasa is  _smiling_. “Maybe.”

They are quiet then, but something about the conversation has bothered Eren, like an itch in his brain.

“You’ve put on weight,” Eren observes, and Mikasa glances at him. Jean actually raises his eyebrows, and Eren suddenly realises what a stupid thing he’s said.

“That’s good!” He explains hurriedly. “It’s healthy! I’m glad, I mean. For you.”

“No point in weakening myself.” Mikasa, to his relief, doesn’t look offended.  _Of course she doesn’t. It’s **Mikasa**._  He doesn’t know why he was worried in the first place.

“Told you the new diet would help,” Jean nudges her shoulder with his.

“You did.” There is an amused twist to her mouth.

“So you admit that I was right?”

Mikasa rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch into a smile once again. “You were right, Jean.”

“Mark the hour and praise the walls!” Jean gasps dramatically. “A miracle, indeed!”

“Oh, shut up.” Mikasa’s smile actually  _widens_.

Sasha comes running up to them, and Jean sweeps her into the discussion, which Sasha makes even more dramatic with her own exaggerations. Feeling very out of place all of a sudden, Eren turns away and leaves them. When he is far enough away, he glances back at his friends, and finds Mikasa watching him.

He makes himself turn away again.

*

* * *

 

For the first time in their walled history, the majority of a graduating trainee batch opt to join the Survey Corps. The numbers are welcome, and unsurprisingly, all of Eren’s surviving comrades from the 104th (save Armin) are promoted and are assigned teams.

Jean and Mikasa are natural leaders, and Sasha and Connie are not much worse. Eren watches the four of them every morning: the Team Leaders start earlier than him, and his training exercises are limited enough that he has time to observe the others. In the year since they graduated, they’ve all improved so vastly. Connie is more decisive in his movements, Sasha is quicker and lighter on her feet, Jean’s aim is bordering on scary, and Mikasa-

Mikasa-

She is  _glorious_ , as always. Sometimes, she flies so fast, you barely see her move from one position to the next. Other times, she is a deadly presence on the field, with unerring aim, unchanging strength, unmistakable in her magnificence. Eren’s eyes are drawn to her all the time, and he feels a jolt of thrill in his chest everytime she  _moves_  on the training ground.

Presently, he watches her perform her signature move -a smooth, clean cut with two blades, and a large chunk of fake Titan nape crashes to the ground. The new recruits had been cheering the others during their demonstrations, but now, they are utterly silent. Eren understands, knows that cheers and clapping could barely  _begin_  to convey the awe at watching Mikasa fly.

Jean is now saying something, waving his hands to emphasise his point. He makes Mikasa repeat one of her flying spins, and then he takes to the air, and…  _he does it, too_. Not quite like her, not with the same grace and precise movements, but he does it.

The recruits are cheering again, and Eren feels a sudden catch in his breath.

There is a quick, firm knock, and his bedroom door opens.

“Hey,” Armin greets him, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Ready to go?”

Eren slips off the window sill. “Yeah.”

He glances at his 3DMG gear lying on one of the shelves, gathering dust now.

He’ll return it to Supplies tomorrow.

*

* * *

 

“Wow, the new kids are  _loud_ ,” Jean grumbles, frowning over his stew. “Were we ever that bad?”

Connie lets out a bark of laughter. “Jean, you were the loudest of us all!”

“Was not,” he quips, annoyed.

“Was too! Wasn’t he, Eren?” Connie grins at him. “Other than you, of course.”

Armin lets out a quiet chuckle next to him, and Eren feels like he hasn’t heard it in so long that his mood lifts and he grins back at Connie. “Not as loud as you were when you attacked that tree.”

“Hey! It was dark and I was  _scared_!”

“Or Sasha when she eats meat,” Mikasa points out.

That statement is so like her, that flash of sudden humour so irresistible that Eren feels a laugh bubbling up. Sasha doesn’t even look up from her food, but she flips them the finger, and Eren does laugh then, along with the others.

Jean stands, still grinning. “Well, I’m beat. Got an early day tomorrow.”

“Wait.” Mikasa stands up, too, holding her empty tray. “I’m coming, too.”

“Do you guys inhale your food or something?” Connie mutters, and Jean rolls his eyes. Eren misses his response when he sees Mikasa lean forward and place a roll of bread on Armin’s plate.

“Eat,” she says softly, and Armin nods, avoiding her gaze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and Eren realises she’s talking to them both. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, Mikasa,” Eren murmurs automatically, something he used to say everyday when they were young and lived in Shiganshina.

She remembers, of course, and gives him a sad smile, a small nod. Then Eren sees Jean nudge her elbow. “Shall we?”

She nods again, her smile just a little bit brighter, and suddenly, Eren isn’t hungry anymore.

*

* * *

 

Captain Levi is heading the training today, and Eren wonders if Mikasa and Armin feel as nervous as he does. Eren sees the older man quite frequently -in meetings, in the corridors, sometimes watching him in the ocean or in his training from a distance. But Eren has barely spoken to him since their return, since his incarceration, since everyone died and everything changed.

“Right. We’re going to practice fighting  _with_  Eren’s Titan form today. For those of you who haven’t done this before,” the Captain eyes the few talented recruits who have been chosen out of the rest, “you’d better learn quick.”

He begins issuing orders, positioning them around and behind Eren, who finds all of this very familiar. He almost expects him to bark out a “Petra! Rear, left.” Almost hears Oluo’s harmless threats whispered into his ear as the recruits move past him. The painful twist in his chest is strong, even after all these months.

“… Sasha, right flank. Jean and Mikasa take point.”

Jean grins at Mikasa, and she actually  _smiles back_ , and something within Eren’s chest suddenly  _snaps_.

“Why him?” He says loudly, and everybody freezes.

“What.” Captain Levi’s stare is all too familiar, but Eren has long since stopped being scared of it.

“Why Jean?” He repeats, the feeling in his chest expanding into a familiar burn.

“Because he’s the best, after  _her_.” Captain Levi gestures at Mikasa, whose face is a frozen mask. “You got a problem with that?”

Jean had placed  _sixth_  in Training.  _After_  Eren.

“Connie and Sasha are just as good,” Eren argues.

The Captain gives him one cool, long stare. Then he turns to everyone else. “Training is cancelled. Report back to base and get new assignments.” Everyone hesitates a moment, but the Captain Levi is already sheathing his blades, and they begin to disperse.

“Eren, Jean. With me.”

Eren follows him immediately, ignoring the stares, ignoring stupid Jean’s stupid, angry, stomping footsteps. When they are almost at the castle, Captain Levi turns back to face them.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between the two of you, even now, after everything.” The criticism cuts Eren like a knife. “Whatever it is, deal with it. I’m rescheduling the training to next week. I expect this to be resolved by then.”

Without waiting for a reply, Captain Levi stalks away.

There is a moment of silence. Then Jean takes a step towards Eren, his face twisted in anger, and-

“Jean.” It’s  _her_. Mikasa is looking only at him, and suddenly Eren feels desperate for her gaze, some form of acknowledgement. But she doesn’t give it, simply looks at Jean. “We’re starting drills. Come on.” Her throat bobs as she swallows nervously, and it is then that Eren realises that she isn’t wearing her scarf.

Jean throws Eren one murderous look before letting her drag him away.

*

* * *

 

Eren spends the rest of the day in the library with Armin. They have found scant literature about the outside world in the Reiss’ secret collection. Still, whatever little was found had to be sifted through, matched and compared against whatever the Marleyan volunteers had given them.

He leaves when his eyes start to burn from the exertion, and forces Armin to go to bed. Then he makes his way to his own room, deciding that’s he’s not hungry after all.

He’s barely turned into the last corridor before someone grabs his arm and slams him against the wall. Eren is unsurprised to see Jean glaring down at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He snarls.

Eren feels the spike of anger again. “You, obviously.”

Jean looks like he wants to hit him, and Eren tenses up in anticipation.  _Come on, do it! Hit me. Make me hit you back, you-_

To his shock, Jean lets go and takes a step back. “Why?”

Eren is practically reeling. “What?”

Jean lets out an annoyed snort. “Look, I don’t like you, okay. Never have, and I don’t see that changing soon. But I trust you enough to fight with you. Like Captain Levi said, after everything we’ve been through together-”

Jean stops talking abruptly, his jaw and fists clenched. Eren’s heart feels like it is clenching, too. He feels the truth of Jean’s words burning in his mind, his own shame burning in his veins. He doesn’t like Jean either, but that dislike is simply based on minor annoyances. When it came to it, he could trust Jean with his life.

_Then… why-?_

“So why are you sabotaging my success within the Corps?” Jean runs his hand through his hair, and Eren feels a jolt when he realises he does the same thing when he’s agitated. “Do you know what a big deal it is to be appointed by Captain Levi himself? Do you know what the recruits - _my_  subordinates, will think of me now?”

Eren cannot look up from the floor. The shame within him rises.

“I mean, even Mikasa thinks you’re being unreasonable, and that’s something.”

It happens again. Rage sparks through Eren once more, replacing the shame. But before he can act on it, sudden understanding fills his mind, and he freezes, his mouth open, shock and dread pounding in his chest.

Mikasa.

_Mikasa._

_Shit._

“Well?” Jean is frowning now, looking more and more annoyed by the minute.

Eren tries to speak and his voice comes out as a throaty rasp. “What-” he clears his throat, “what did Mikasa say?”

Jean’s eyes widen, and he knows he’s understood  _everything_. The shame is back, burning harsher than before.

“Well.” Jean clears his throat, too, and Eren can’t decide if the gleam in his eyes is anger or glee. “About goddamn time you caught up with the rest of us.”

Eren blinks. “W-what?”

Jean snorts. “You’re the least observant idiot I’ve ever known.”

“Get to the point, Jean,” Eren grits out.

“It’s  _her_. Mikasa.  _She’s_  always the point, always has been, and you’ve never seen it.” Jean looks pissed off again. “Everyone could see it, how special she is, how much she deserves, and-” His face is red now. “You never saw it. Never saw  _her_ , never  _cared_  enough, and now -now you think she’s still waiting? Like she has for years, and you kept pushing her away, and-”

Jean halts abruptly. Then he crosses his arms over his chest, not looking at him anymore. “It’s too late. Do you understand?” His glare settles on him again. “ _You’re_  too late now. So you’d best deal with it and let us all do our jobs. Okay?”

Eren can’t say a word, can’t do anything but stare back, his words pounding painfully in his head.

Jean gives him a stiff nod. “See you around, Jaeger,” he mutters and strides away, leaving Eren mute and frozen in the corridor, leaving him feeling terribly alone.

*

* * *

 

Eren can’t think straight, can’t settle down. He begins to pace his room as soon as he enters it and only stops when he feels the soreness of the soles of his feet. It’s like there’s a howling storm in his head, his moods shifting erratically with each metaphorical gust in his mind.

He still feels angry, feels a wave of fury wash over him every now and then when he remembers Jean’s almost  _smug_  face, but then the rage is whiffed away like a candle flame when he thinks of her. When he remembers how lovely her smile used to be, wider and freer when they were younger, how those smiles became more and more rare as the years passed. How much he had  _missed_  those smiles until they began to reappear in the last few days. How much he  _hates_  that she isn’t smiling at him anymore.

He changes into his nightclothes reluctantly, certain that sleep will not claim him tonight. He is about halfway up the buttons of his shirt when there is a low, discreet knock on his door. He recognises it, and chooses to ignore it. When the knock is repeated, he sighs. “What is it, Armin?”

“It’s me.”

He turns cold with shock. His legs move of their own volition, and he opens the door.

“Hi,” he breathes. “What’s wrong?”

Mikasa looks up at him as if searching for something on his face. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” Eren steps aside and she walks in soundlessly. For a long moment they simply stare at each other. Eren doesn’t know what to say at all, because even looking at her face now  _hurts_.

“I just wanted to talk to you about Jean.” Always to the point, always facing things head on. Eren wonders if she got that from him, or if she had always been that way.

“I -right.”

Mikasa is frowning at the floor. “He… he’s changed, you know.” She looks up at him. “Jean.”

“Or maybe you’re just more used to him now,” Eren says before he can stop himself. Mentally, he’s screaming at himself to  _calm the fuck down._

“Eren,” she sighs, in the same weary tone she has used with him for years. And it is that tone that does it, that makes Jean’s words come rushing back to his head:  _never cared enough._

“Yeah, I know,” he admits. “He’s more of a decent guy now.”

Mikasa snorts, but her expression remains unchanged. “I’m glad you’ve noticed. But then… today-”

“-won’t happen again,” Eren promises, ignoring the fact that she’s  _glad_.

One of her eyebrows rise slightly. “You spoke to him?”

“More like he yelled at me,” Eren says, with a horrible attempt at a smile. “Anyway, we’re good now.”

“Are you?” Her stare, her  _beautiful_  grey stare, is making goosebumps rise on his skin. By the walls,  _how_  has he never seen how much she affects him?

“Yeah. I was… jealous.” He’s never one to lie about things (Armin was always better at that), and he’s not going to start now. As much as he feels like he’s swallowed a whole nest of bees, he can’t not tell her. “He’s spending so much time with you now, and you always… it was always me.”

Mikasa simply stares at him, and he wishes she wasn’t so good at hiding her emotions, because he is suddenly desperate to know what she is thinking.  _Do you hate me?_  He wants to ask her.  _Do you still think I’m tactless and immature? Do you think I never cared?_

_Do you still care? For me?_

“He spoke to me,” she says. “Tried to tell me about… his feelings.” She is frowning slightly, looking at the floor again. “Not that they were much of a secret.”

Eren nods, but he doesn’t think she even sees it. She seems focused on a groove between two tiles, her toe nudging along it. He wants to chuck her chin up so she is meeting his gaze once more, but forces himself to stay still.

“I told him -that.” Her nostrils flare and her frown deepens as if the stone floor has mortally offended her. “I told him that he was too late. That there’s no time, there  _never_  will be enough time. In this life.” She abandons the crack in the floor and suddenly looks back up at him. Her eyes make Eren feel like he’s  _burning_.

“In another life… things would be different,” she says softly, and there is a small tremble in her voice, enough to make him feel weak-kneed. “But now, with things as they are, things that are left to be done. I cannot - _he_  cannot expect anything more.” Her hands grip her scarf tightly, and Eren feels his eyes burn with unshed tears - _she is wearing it again._

“I cannot afford the distraction, and neither, I think, can you.” She blinks at him. “Right, Eren?”

His throat is too dry and he simply nods.

“But I would like to spend as much time as I can with him. As much as this life permits me.” The glance she throws him is like an arrow right in his chest.

“Of course.” He rasps, nodding.

She sighs, and lets go of her scarf. And then she takes two quick steps until she is suddenly right in front of him, and grabs his hand in a blink.

“You look tired. You need to rest.”

“I’ll try,” he mumbles.

She smiles a soft, sad,  _lovely_  smile. “Good night, Eren.”

“Sweet dreams, Mikasa.”

She gives his hand a soft squeeze, and then in a whisper of wind, she is gone.

Taking every last wink of his sleep with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is why I can’t have nice things


	22. Stranger (Reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Anonymous asked: A Jeankasa headcanon were Jean hug Mikasa and confort her as she cries for Eren?]]
> 
> More canonverse angst, coming right up! *cackles and rubs hands gleefully*
> 
> Spoilers for chapter 113.

_(I referred to this image while writing. The pain is real :) )_

 

__

 

Something was wrong. **  
**

 _Well, no shit_ , his brain reminded him. People were dying again, people he cared about,  _again_. He imagined what Sasha would do or say if she were here…

 _No, stop. Not now_. Jean glanced at Connie, who was quieter than he’d ever seen him, clutching his head as if he had a headache. Jean could feel the starting throbs of one himself, but, no, he would  _not_  dwell on it, he would  _not_  fucking wallow. Hange’d been taken somewhere, Zackley was dead, walls knew where Pixis was, everybody was apparently fucking  _poisoned_ , and he needed to have a plan,  _they_  needed to plan-

His gaze fell on Armin, whose focus was on one person, and one person only.

 _Her_.

They had been shoved into the same carriage, the four of them, outside Nicolo’s restaurant. Mikasa had been  _crying_ , her face wet with tears and snot, supporting a beat-up Armin, who looked  _furious_.

“What happened?” Jean had gasped, but neither of them had said a word.

They had spent the entirety of their long carriage ride in silence, the only sounds coming from the clinks of their shackles, and the hissing steam of Armin’s healing bruises. It still freaked him out. Armin didn’t transform much, not if he could help it, and seeing something that Jean had always seen on Eren, but on Armin instead, frankly unnerved him. Armin had seemed to be thinking along the same lines: he had stared at his bruised knuckles steaming until there was no more left to heal, a look of mingled fear and disgust on his face.

Jean was staring at Armin now, and as if he had felt it, Armin looked up at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, Armin walked swiftly over to Mikasa, who was standing at the bars of the cell, gazing listlessly at the opposite wall.

“Do you want to sit?” Jean had to strain to hear him.

Still she stood, frozen stiff as a statue, and Armin said slowly, “Mikasa-”

“No.”

Armin glanced away as Connie went to join the Braus family, who were sitting in quiet despair at a table, murmuring softly amongst themselves.

“They left some water,” Armin muttered. “Would you like to-”

“Armin. Please.” Her voice broke at the  _please_ , and Jean was stepping forward before he knew it.

“Okay, will you tell me what happened?” He hissed at them.

And Armin just  _left_. He turned around and walked over to the Braus family and slid into a bench next to the child who had killed Sasha. Jean couldn’t help but gape at him. He had  _never_  seen him look so grim, so defeated; not when they had first started fighting people, not in the early days of his resurrection, not even when he had to kill all those people in Liberio.

What the  _hell_  had happened?

“Mikasa,” he muttered, turning back to her, “why won’t you two say-”

“Eren.”

It took him a few seconds to realise she was answering him. “What?”

“He was there. At the restaurant.”

“ _What_?”

She leaned forward to grip the bars, but said nothing.

“Wait, he was  _there_? So it was Floch who sprung him -but why didn’t he -I don’t understand.” Jean felt suddenly dizzy. “So -so  _he_  fought with… Armin?” Jean glanced at Armin, suddenly at a loss for words. “I -I don’t understand,” he repeated.

“Neither do I.” Her voice was rough with pain. “I don’t understand… I don’t know him.” She finally turned around and he was stunned to see fresh tears coursing down her face. “I don’t understand him, I don't -I don’t know  _him_  anymore.” Her breath hitched, and Jean felt his heart twisting painfully. “ _I don’t know him anymore_ , Jean. I don’t know who he is anymore, and he was  _always_ , he has always been the  _one person_  I knew-”

She broke down altogether, and Jean reached for her instinctively. Every quiet sob she buried in his chest seemed to strike his heart. Every hitching breath of hers made his eyes prick with unshed tears. Every tremble he felt made him tighten his arms around her, tight enough to hurt, surely. But clearly that was nothing compared to the way Eren had hurt her.

 _Eren Jaeger_ , he thought bitterly. The guy who did everything just a bit better than Jean.

Even hurting her.

Mikasa kept crying, and Jean kept holding onto her, because what else could he do?

 _Correction_ , his brain told him.  _Everything  was wrong. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I tagged this as both Eremika and Jeankasa because one of them is one-sided here and you can choose which one. :)


	23. Devilry (Eren x Mikasa x Armin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Anonymous asked: Ereminkasa Au in which Armin accidentally summons two demons. Chaos and shenanigans ensue.]]
> 
> Anon... anon. Do you have any idea what you have done?? My brain broke as I wrote this. I ended up giving my golden boi™ a demon kink. Oh my god.

  **The Symbol**

“You're a demon aren't you? A demon sent from my own personal hell to torment me.”

Armin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jean, stop being so melodramatic.”

“You live in the middle of fucking nowhere, Armin,” Jean hissed harshly into the phone. “Why the fuck can't you live in a normal apartment building like a normal human being?”

“Because I own this place and don't want to pay rent?”

“Rich bastard,” Jean muttered and Armin rolled his eyes.

“Look, it's not difficult. The neighbourhood is right down in the valley, with three roads bordering it on the hills.” Armin drew a circle within a triangle in the flour next to him absently, then scolded himself for doing so because of course Jean couldn't see what he was drawing.

“ _It's not difficult_ ,” Jean mimicked wearily. “Jesus, Armin, you realise you live in the prime location for every horror movie- ARGH!”

Jean's shout was so abrupt and sudden that Armin's hand slipped and the knife he was holding swiped a long cut down his other hand.

 _“Shit!”_ Armin hurried to the sink and placed the injured hand under running water. “What the hell, Jean?”

“Sorry -it was Sasha. She standing right in the middle of the fucking road-” he heard Jean's voice weaken as if he was talking to someone else next to him, along with the slam of the car door. “Are you crazy, woman? Walking alone like that in the middle of the goddamn woods-”

Sasha sounded as nonchalant as ever. “I'm not scared of any woods. Hey Armin!” Her voice was suddenly loud as if she had snatched the phone from Jean.

“Sasha, how are you with directions?” Armin hid a grimace, his wound was longer than it was deep, but still bleeding profusely.

“Decent, I think.” Sasha laughed. “So tell me, which way now?”

“Depends on where you are right now.”

“Um. We're on a road… with trees…”

Armin snorted. “Yeah, okay, I'd like to talk to Jean now.”

“Okay!” Sasha, cheerful as ever, handed the phone back to Jean.

“Okay, coconut-head,” Jean muttered. “Guide me.”

Armin rolled his eyes, turning off the tap, and searching for gauze. “Keep driving until you find a sign.”

“I don't think the universe is in a helpful mood right now.”

“I meant a road sign, genius,” Armin chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was silence but for Jean's breathing on the phone. Armin continued to check the shelves for his medical kit, trying to remember where he had put it last time.

“Okay, I see a sign.”

Armin straightened up, finally clutching the medical kit. “Super!”

“It's… it's… Ah - Achendorf?”

Armin froze in front of the ruined batter. “What?”

“It says Achendorf.”

“There's no Achendorf around here,” Armin frowned.

“ _Putain_ -are you shitting me right now?” Jean sounded angry again. “Are we even in the same plane of existence? The sign says Achendorf-”

“Jean, shut up, I'm thinking.” Armin snapped, running through his mental list of nearby towns and villages. He was _sure_ there was no Achendorf…

A sudden epiphany hit him, and he let out a shout. “Oh my god, it's _Ärendorf_! You're close, you're at Ärendorf!”

“What-? Your signal's breaking up-”

“It's Ehr-en, you French idiot, as in _Ehr_ -asmus.”

“What?”

Armin swore as the medical scissors slipped and he poked himself in the hand _again_.

“Ehr-en, Er-en, _Ären_ dorf!” He practically yelled. “You're at Ärendorf!”

“Okay, okay, Jesus, no need to shout.” Jean sounded infuriatingly calm all of a sudden. “Where do I go next?”

Armin gave him the directions, made sure he got it right, then hung up with a tired sigh. He frowned down at his bloodstained countertop and the ruined food. The wound still hadn't clotted completely.

He reached for the gauze when a sudden voice behind him went, “Need some help with that?”

Armin whipped around, stared for a split second, then screamed.

*

* * *

 

At some point, Armin was sure he fainted. He must have, because he couldn't remember how he got to his room from the kitchen. He was hoping he'd had a silly dream from all the blood loss, but when he turned over in his bed, there _he_ stood at the door jamb, emerald eyes gleaming.

“Oh no,” Armin groaned, sitting up and holding his head.

“Aww, does it hurt?” An exaggerated pout. “Want me to take the pain away?”

“In exchange for?” Armin asked sharply, scowling.

The boy -man - _demon_ smirked and tapped a claw-tipped finger on his chin. “Hmm, let's see…”

“Ugh.” Armin swung his legs off the bed. “If this is a prank, if this is play-acting, then congratulations, you're doing a great job.” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “But enough. Stop it now.”

The _-person_ cocked his head to the side, his smile widening. “You don't think this is a prank, though.”

“Oh really,” Armin drawled, narrowing his eyes.

“ _Really_ ,” he nodded, then shot him another one of those attractive one-sided smirks. “You've got a stranger in your bedroom and look at you, all relaxed.”

Armin felt blood rush into his cheeks, certain his ears and neck were turning splotchy red. “Okay, now you're being creepy. Leave now, or…”

The other guy crossed his arms, too. “Or?” His smirk widened. “Or you'll kick me out? I have to say, I'd like to see you get all _handsy_.”

“Jesus fuck,” Armin blurted.

“Blasphemous, too,” he practically purred, suddenly right in front of Armin, _kneeling_. “I feel so lucky.”

Armin almost fell over backwards onto his bed. “W-what are you doing?” His voice, he was displeased to note, was high and shrill.

“Relax,” the demon drawled and grasped his hand so gently Armin barely felt his touch. “Let me fix that for you.” He was stroking the gauze on his hand and Armin yanked it away abruptly. “Not worth it.”

“Free of charge. Something like a test run, let's say.” Those green eyes were practically shining now.

“Let's not,” Armin hissed, clutching his hand.

The demon grinned, and Armin could see how sharp his canines were. “Too late.”

Armin gasped and tore his haphazard bandage away -to find smooth, scarless skin.

“I didn't ask for this!” His voice was shrill again.

The demon stood up smoothly, still grinning. “Like I said, free of charge.”

*

* * *

 

**The Sacrifice**

“Why should I believe you?”

The demon shrugged. “You shouldn’t, that’s true.”

Armin sighed and rubbed his eyes, glancing at the wall clock. His friends could be here any minute now. The demon, still carefully, _eerily_ watching, scoffed and turned away. “Look, it's not like I don't have other things to do. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Armin looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “That simple, huh?”

“What can I say?” A sudden grin, a glint of dangerous white teeth. “Business is booming, and there's always another customer to serve.”

Armin chewed his bottom lip pensively. “Well, if you put it that way…”

He had tried to run a quick Google search on how to banish demons, but the demon had been there, watching over his shoulder and laughing loudly.

“Fake, fake, binding ritual, fake -ooh, _that_ one's new… but useless,” he had added, grinning that maddening smile of his. Finally, the demon himself had offered to teach Armin a simple banishing ritual, explaining that he'd rather be extorting greedy idiots instead of the cynical disbeliever that Armin was.

The minute hand swept inexorably on, and Armin sighed and got to his feet. “Fine. Tell me what supplies I need.”

“You have them all right here,” the demon assured him, moving to his art corner. Armin followed, curious and apprehensive in equal measures.

“Okay, so you flatten that clay thingie out,” the demon instructed, and Armin did so. “Now draw a circle inside a triangle on it. Circle first, both anticlockwise.”

Armin did so, realising with rising dread that this was the image he had accidentally drawn on the flour on his kitchen counter while he was talking to Jean.

“Perfect,” the demon purred, a little too close to his ear and Armin squirmed aside. “Next you need to pour that red paint onto it. The more the better.”

“The blood from my wound,” Armin whispered.

The demon shot him an impressed glance. “Clever,” he commented, which Armin ignored, pouring all the red paint that remained in the jar.

“Very good. Now, last step.”

Armin tensed up. “Okay.”

The demon gestured at his paper knife. “Cut yourself. A single drop of blood will do. And while you do so, you have to say this word three times.”

The demon told him a word that Armin had never heard before. “What does it mean?”

“Nothing to you.”

The clock struck eight, and Armin turned hurriedly back to the grisly mess on his drafting table: his friends could be on his doorstep by now.

Bracing himself, he pricked his newly healed finger and said, as clearly as he could, “Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa!”

For a second he closed his eyes, expecting an explosion, a scream, maybe even a _poof_ of smoke or a hellish portal opening. When he heard nothing, he opened his eyes slowly. “Did it work…?” He wondered out loud.

An entirely new voice came from his bed. “Yes.”

Once more he whipped around, once more he stared wordlessly, but before he could scream, the doorbell rang downstairs.

*

* * *

 

“Hey man, are you sure you're alright?” Jean looked concerned at the mess in Armin's kitchen.

“I'm fine, it's fine,” Armin said, trying hard to lower his panicky voice, bringing out napkins and cleaning rags. “I cut myself, that's all.”

“Where?”

Armin clutched his unblemished arm tightly and giggled, “Here in the kitchen, duh.”

Jean frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Armin called out, “Hey Sasha, should this go in the fridge or the freezer?”

“Fridge is fine!” Sasha sang out.

Armin gathered up Sasha's no-bake cake in his still trembling hands, and stopped in front of Jean, who still stood frowning down at him.

“Hey, Jean, you're kind of in my way…” He said with a weak smile.

“Armin, you don't look okay,” Jean said, looking genuinely concerned. But before Armin could respond, the doorbell rang again.

“That's probably Historia and Ymir.” Armin hefted the heavy dessert dish. “Jean, thanks for the concern, _really_. I just… wasn't as prepared as I thought I would be for you guys.”

The doorbell rang once more, and Armin called out, “Could you guys get that?” He turned back to Jean hastily. “Look, it would really help me if you held the fort out there with the others.” He cracked another smile. “Just until I clear things up in here.”

Jean scrutinised him for a long moment, then nodded. Armin waited until he left the kitchen to let out his sigh of relief. He moved quickly, wiping up the mess, throwing all of the ruined food in the trash. He made a quick phone call to order pizza, swept the floor just in case, and stepped into the hallway, and stopped. Right at the bottom of the stairs.

Ahead, he could see the warm glow from his living room, the cheerful sound of his friends’ chatter trickling over to him. And in his bedroom upstairs, just above the living room, were not one, but _two_ demons.

_Two. Demons._

The panic threatened to overwhelm him once more, but he grit his teeth and clenched his fists, took a deep breath and marched ahead.

 _One thing at a time_ , he told himself.

“About time the host showed himself,” came Ymir's sarcastic drawl as soon as he entered the room. All his other friends were beaming at him, and Armin felt himself relax a little bit and smile back too. The usual round of welcoming hugs and kisses happened. Armin sank into the couch next to Historia, participating vaguely in the conversation, his mind still burning with the demonic problem upstairs. They had somehow agreed to stay in his room, _for now_ , but he really had to think of something to get rid of them, permanently. But there was little he could do when he had to host his friends for a night of dinner and drinks.

He found himself wondering idly if his friends would help, his thoughtful gaze flitting from one face to the next. They _might_ , but what if the demons tried to hurt his friends? He couldn't do that to them.

At this point, the doorbell rang again. Connie, who was closest to the door, shot up and headed to the front door.

“That'll be the pizza,” Armin nodded, but even as he said it, he wondered at the fast service -surely it hadn't been that long since he ordered the food…

The door swung open, and a _very_ familiar pair of demonic faces smiled at everyone.

“Hi! We're here for Armin's party.”

*

* * *

 

**The Spell**

Gone were the small horns on the head, gone were the long, swishing tails, the flowing robes of indeterminate texture. Instead, two very normal, very _attractive_ human-looking people stepped over the threshold and shook the evening mist from their simple, dark coats.

“Hi, I'm Connie,” Connie said cheerfully, but still looking curiously at the newcomers.

“I'm Eren, this is Mikasa.” And Armin snapped out of his shocked stupor to glare at him.

He only received a smirk and a wink in return.

The rest of his friends stood up to introduce themselves and shake their hands before Armin could say anything.

“We brought wine,” the demon named Mikasa said in her clear, bell-like voice.

“Great!” Armin cut in, noting that his voice was high-pitched once more. “Come with me to the kitchen.” He paused at the doorway and snapped over his shoulder, “ _Both_ of you.”

They did follow him, and once they were in the kitchen, Armin slammed the door shut. “What the _hell_ are you doing?” He hissed.

The demon named Eren leaned back casually on the kitchen counter. He had pulled his long, shaggy hair back into a simple bun, and once more Armin realised with a sudden jolt that they were both _hot_ , holy shit.

“Just socialising,” the demon _-Eren_ -shrugged. Mikasa went and stood next to him, accepting his arm around her shoulder with a happy little sigh. “We need to establish ourselves for long-term projects,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“ _Long-term_?” Armin practically shrieked. He paused to take a shaky, calming breath, and said, “What happened to giving up on a lost cause?”

For the first time he saw Mikasa _smile_ , and the change was instantaneous. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. “Is that what he told you?” She sounded highly amused. Eren's eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter. “I was surprised that line worked, to be honest,” he said placatingly. “You were in a hurry, so you didn't think things through.”

Armin buried his face in his hands and groaned unhappily. “This is not real,” he whined. “This _can't_ be happening.”

“I would've thought you'd be past the denial stage by now,” Mikasa noted mildly.

Armin's head snapped up. “Don't you _dare_ tell me what to think.”

“No.” Suddenly Mikasa leaned forward and brushed the back of her hand against his jaw, her touch cold and feather-light. “No one could tell _you_ what to do. You know your own mind better than anyone.”

Armin froze completely -she was so, _so beautiful_ . Mikasa's fingers moved to grab his chin and she chucked his head up gently. “You were right,” she murmured, “in this light he looks _very_ pretty.” Eren let out a pleased little hum, and Armin suddenly felt ridiculously faint.

 _It's just the blood loss,_ Armin told himself weakly. _Nothing more_.

There was a sharp knock on the kitchen door and Armin jumped away from her as if he was electrocuted. He opened the door with a flourish and found Jean standing there, looking strangely breathless.

“Uh, is uh, everything okay?” He asked, but his eyes were fixed on a point above Armin's shoulder. Somehow, he knew what Jean's focus was on, and his guess was confirmed the next moment.

“Hey, uh, we didn't get to talk, before. I'm -I'm Jean.” He stepped past Armin and stretched out his hand, his actions much more firm than his voice. Armin turned around just in time to see Mikasa squirm closer to Eren, who curled his arm tightly around her waist. Both of them were looking at Jean with a dead-eyed stare that made even Armin shudder. _If looks could kill…_

Jean let his hand drop lamely. “Right. You guys coming out? Pizza's here.”

“Yes, we'll be out soon, Jean,” he said, herding him out before he could say anything else and shutting the door after him. Then he leaned his forehead on the door, taking slow, deep breaths. When he turned around again, the demons were clearly waiting for him to speak.

“Look, whatever _-this_ is, whatever you want from me, you leave them out of it.” He was glad his voice wasn't trembling. “You don't harm or inconvenience my friends in any way possible, directly or indirectly, okay?”

It was like ice thawing: suddenly they were both smiling, and the air turned warm and cosy once more. “Aren't you just sweet?” Mikasa said _fondly_. Armin felt more blood rush into his cheeks, but insisted, “Are we in agreement?”

“You want to make a deal?” Eren quirked an eyebrow, smirking again.

Armin actually paused to consider it, but Mikasa shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry. They're… out of our jurisdiction, so to speak.”

Armin let out a tiny sigh of relief and shrugged her hand off. “Then let's go.” He opened the door and waited to let them go in front of him. As Eren walked past him, he added, “And _behave_!”

Eren simply winked, but it was Mikasa, seemingly quiet _Mikasa_ , who pinched his bottom with a sly whisper of “Always” and strode away.

Armin found himself wishing, for the first time in a long time, that he knew some goddamn prayers.

*

* * *

 

“Let's play _Loup-garou!_ ” Jean announced loudly. Sasha and Ymir hooted in excitement, but Armin flinched. Unfortunately, Historia noticed.

“What's wrong?” She nudged his shoulder. “You like this game.”

Armin could only shake his head while Eren's voice rose in interest. “ _Loup-garou_? Is it a hunt?”

For a split second everyone gaped at him. “Uh, _no_ ,” Jean slurred. “It’s a fucking game?”

“Hunting is a sport,” Eren said, an angry glint in his eye.

“It's just a silly game,” Armin cut in hurriedly, trying to diffuse the tension, but Mikasa spoke over him, “'Werewolf’. How do you play it?”

Jean stared at her like she had rattled off a complex equation. “ _Tu parles français?”_ He asked, and there was no mistaking the adoring look he was sending her. She shrugged elegantly, and Armin tried not to focus on the way her porcelain skin rippled over her collarbones. “ _C'est pas trop difficile._ ”

Eren snorted, and muttered what suspiciously sounded like “ _Salaud_.”

Jean's face twisted in anger. “What did you say-?”

“So, the rules!” Armin jumped to his feet before this could escalate any further. “It's simple. One of us opts out and plays the narrator who makes it a story. The rest of us pretend to be residents of a village. We pick cards and only we know which character we are. One of us is the werewolf, and when the narrator says it's nighttime, we all close our eyes-”

“Ooh, _Loup-garou_? Let me!” Connie burst into the room with new bottles of beer that he passed on to the others. Armin sat down again, glad to let him continue. “So the werewolf goes to hunt at night, right? He -or she -tells the narrator who they killed. Then the narrator 'wakes’ everyone up and reveals the victim, who's ruled out. Then it's just a blame game. The villagers need to decide who the werewolf is and vote on the person. The werewolf pretends to be a villager, right, so they can vote, too. Basically everyone needs to convince everyone else that they're not guilty. And then they 'sleep’ again, and if the werewolf isn't killed-”

“-someone else dies.” Eren was grinning widely. “I _like_ this game.”

“It's like poker without cards,” Ymir cackled. “But with a lot more drama.”

“And we all know you _live_ for drama,” Historia teased her.

“You know me too well, babe,” Ymir sighed, and kissed her, hard.

“Ugh, maybe wait until the party's over?” Jean scoffed.

“Love waits for no man, asshole.”

Armin glanced at the demons, and the _interested_ way in which they were staring at Ymir and Historia made him say loudly, “Okay, let's play the game! Who wants to be the narrator?”

To his surprise, Eren stood up. “I'll do it.”

Armin wanted to ask him if he was sure, but was distracted by Historia's gentle prodding. “Are you sure you want to play?” Armin nodded a little too quickly, and she bit her lip, looking concerned. “You seem anxious. We can leave now, if you like.”

Armin felt a flare of affection for her. “No, it's fine.” He gave her a small, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

They sat in a circle around the coffee table after they picked their cards. Somehow, Armin wasn't surprised at all when he saw he got the ace of hearts -he was the werewolf. He cringed when he saw Jean cut in front of Connie to make a beeline to the chair next to Mikasa. Sasha noticed, too, and winked at Armin, sitting down next to him.

“Okay, settle down, peasants,” Eren said loftily. Everyone laughed, but, for some reason, Armin felt nervous. There was the usual laughing, the playful warnings of “no peeking!”, and everyone closed their eyes.

Then Eren began the story. “ _Il était une fois_ ,” and Armin almost jumped off the couch because his voice was _right in his ear,_ “a little village filled with sweet little villagers. They were _delicious_ little idiots.” Armin shuddered again as Ymir cackled somewhere from his right side, the demon's hot breath on his left cheek. “Because they did not know that their prey lived amongst them. When the sun had set and they went to sleep in their silly little beds, the creature awoke to do its terrible deeds. For this was no ordinary creature.” A small pause, where everyone seemed to be waiting with baited breath. Armin couldn't help thinking Eren was _really_ good at narrating stories, when his voice was suddenly _too close again-_

“This was the most fearsome of them all, the deadliest creature to walk this earth, the predator of all predators. The most terrifying _jäger…_ the werewolf.”

Armin took his cue and opened his eyes -and nearly let out a shocked squeak. For Sasha was no longer next to him, she was sitting opposite him, next to Jean. Instead, Mikasa sat on the couch next to him, eyes wide open and glimmering with amusement, and Eren, looking just as amused as her, was _sitting in her lap._

Armin gaped at them, dumbstruck. How had they moved without him noticing? How had _Sasha_ not noticed? Mikasa smiled and leaned over to nuzzle her face onto Eren's neck, her eyes still fixed on Armin.

And Armin _couldn't look away_.

Eren wrapped his arms around Mikasa and continued in the same casual tone, “The werewolf searched for its next meal, its next  stupid victim. It snuck through the village, sniffing out weaknesses, making its way to the victim of the night…”

He raised an eyebrow at Armin, whose focus was on his long, tanned fingers as they stroked Mikasa's arm in lazy circles.

“The werewolf took its time and made its choice…?” Eren's knee nudged his, and he flinched, startled into awareness of the game. He forced himself to look away from Mikasa's pink lips pressing onto Eren's skin, and pointed at Ymir. His hand was shaking.

“The werewolf struck!” Suddenly Eren was right behind him, his hands gripping his shoulders, Armin could feel the heat from them seep through his sweater and shirt. “It made mincemeat of the stupid, naïve villager and ate it all up, leaving nothing but blood and guts in the now empty bed.”

His warm fingers moved to Armin's neck, whose eyes fluttered shut automatically. He felt Eren lean his chin on top of his head, and when he swallowed nervously, one of the burning fingers pressed lightly on his Adam’s apple. “The deed was done. The creature, sated.” The fingers were now brushing up his neck, tracing his jaw. “The werewolf went back to its little house, wore its sheepskin villager’s costume again, hiding its true intentions…” A thumb brushed his lower lip ever so gently, and Armin’s heart _hitched_.

“Then the sun rose on a bloody morning, revealing the gruesome crime to the rest of the villagers.” And in a flash, gone were the fingers, the sharp chin pressing onto his head. Armin opened his eyes with the rest of his friends to see Eren sitting casually on the edge of the coffee table, his knee pressed against Mikasa’s, grinning at them all as he said, “And soon they found one villager missing; the most idiotic of them all.” He lifted his finger and pointed at Jean.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Jean burst out angrily. “Gone in the first round?”

“Tough luck,”  Ymir laughed. Armin frowned discreetly at Eren, who simply shrugged. He _knew_ he had picked Ymir, but for some reason, had decided to eliminate Jean instead. Luckily, none of his friends were paying attention, they had instead moved on to the next part of the game.

“It’s not me!” Connie gasped. “I would never give you up, bro!”

“Eugh. Don’t call me bro.”

“And _I_ would never let you down,” Sasha sighed, draping her arm over Jean’s shoulder.

“Well, we’ve established these two memelords are too stupid to be the werewolf,” Ymir remarked.

The banter continued back and forth, with everyone pointing fingers at everyone, laughing and dramatically protesting their innocence. Armin barely participated; he was highly aware of the fact that Eren had come to lean his elbows on the back of the couch behind him. He tried his hardest to look away and smile, and when Historia said she was suspecting him, he managed to protest quite convincingly.

Feeling a little relieved at being able to play along, he risked glancing to his left at Mikasa -and regretted it immediately. She was _close_ , her side pressed to his, and Eren’s face was _right there_ , his nose rubbing against her cheek. And before Armin could turn away, both their eyes flashed to him, emerald and glass, and Eren, still grinning at him, gently _licked_ the edge of Mikasa’s earlobe with a _forked tongue_ -

Armin shot to his feet. “Guys,” he said, his voice trembling, “I think you should leave.” Everyone looked startled, even Eren and Mikasa.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jean’s annoyance was gone and he looked genuinely concerned.

“You seem flushed,” Sasha remarked. Historia stood up too, and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Should we take you to a doctor?”

“We can stay to help-”

“ _No._ ” Armin shook his head and smiled weakly at them. “Thanks guys, but I’ll be fine. I’ll just sleep it off.”

Slowly, uncertainly, his friends stood up and prepared to leave. He had to decline offers of help again, insisting that he just needed rest, that he could clean up by himself. Ymir and Historia left first in their taxi, followed by Jean and Connie with Sasha as their designated driver.

“At least let me help clear up,” Jean said, hesitating at the front door, nodding at the pizza boxes. Armin opened his mouth to decline again, when he felt an arm snake around his shoulders and hold him close.

“Eren and I will help,” Mikasa said.

Jean nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “Right. It was, uh, nice meeting you.”

“Good night, Jean.”

Armin stood at his door and watched his friends drive away, hemmed in on both sides by two warm bodies. Then he turned around and shut the door, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling his heart drumming in his chest.

He opened his eyes to see the two demons standing hand-in-hand, waiting for him to speak, looking breathtakingly, _fascinatingly_ inhuman once more.

“Okay,” he said, and took another deep breath. “Okay.”

Still they waited, tails swishing lazily behind them.

“Now what?” He asked them.

Their mouths curved into smiles in perfect sync. “Whatever you want,” Mikasa murmured. “Or desire,” Eren added.

The three of them stared at each other for a long moment. Armin thought of the rituals and the teasing, of Eren’s warm hands and Mikasa’s soft hair.

He let out a huff of breath, the last of his fear.

Then, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Firstly, the French!
> 
>  _Putain_ \- technically means 'bitch' but it's basically an all-in-one swearword that's used practically all the time. [like 'fuck' in English]  
>  _Loup-garou_ \- werewolf  
>  _Tu parles français?_ \- You speak French?  
>  _C'est pas trop difficile._ \- It's not very difficult. [Note, I haven't used _"ce n'est pas"_ on purpose because the 'ne' is often omitted in casual conversation :) ]  
>  _Salaud_ \- bastard  
>  _Il était une fois_ \- Once upon a time
> 
> I made up the name "Ärendorf" just so Armin could do the accidental summoning. Jean, who is supposed to be French, pronounced it without the added stress in the "Ä", so it would have sounded like the German "ach" in his French accent... I think. Sorry if I've messed up the pronunciations!
> 
> I actually looked up demon summoning rituals on google, and let me tell you, it is _way_ too easy to summon demons these days, man. The information is just out there, just like that. For your safety, I have changed the ritual a little in this story (removed a Latin chant, etc.,). Don’t complain, we can't all summon Erens and Mikasas.
> 
> I hope the rules of Loup-garou made sense? I have played a game like it here in my corner of the world, but we just had cops and murderers, no supernatural creature. :) I adore the French version, and have some very fond memories of playing it with my friends, so into the fic it went! Have you ever played a game like it? What's it called where you're from?
> 
> This is the first time I wrote an OT3 fic! Please do let me know what you think of it! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
